


Half-Breed: Princess Unchained

by ChrysaoraAdora



Series: Star of Septarsis [2]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Fantastic Racism, Mon!Star AU, Multi, Nice Guy Syndrome, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, here be war crimes, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysaoraAdora/pseuds/ChrysaoraAdora
Summary: "Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.”-William Shakespeare, HamletYou’re Star, and you wish you don’t know now what you didn’t know then. Things have changed, just like you wanted. You never wanted this.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> In which Star cries, River tries, and Moon wants to take a nap.
> 
> (Welcome back, everybody! If you're new I recommend starting with part one, but you don't have to.)

Be Queen Moon the Undaunted, trying to talk to your heiress. Consider changing your informal title. Too many things are daunting to you, these days. It feels like puffery to you, bad propaganda with no place in a time of peace, no matter how unstable.

Though you didn’t expect him to do so, Marco the human brings Star back to the castle. Is that...Ludo’s helmet? It looks so out of place on her right now. She’s wearing her glamour despite the broken contract. That means she isn’t going to derail everything, at least not immediately. Maybe you’ll find her more reasonable than her father after all. Her glamour is as bright and pleasant as ever, but your eyes see easily past it. 

You didn’t know Septarians could cry. Perhaps they can’t, and her Mewman blood is what allows Star to do so. If you peel back the finest layer of her spell you can see bloodshot eyes and distressed cheek marks, the light salt-crust on her cheek scales from tears she didn’t bother to wipe away. How is she holding the glamour? She doesn’t carry the Royal Wand with her. Instead Hekapoo stands several marches behind her with the priceless heirloom floating above her open hand. 

There are some things you already know about what transpired. With any luck you can use the knowledge you have to verify what Star tells you. Hekapoo burst into your office minutes before before the Contract combusted inside your desk. She told you Toffee was using his dimensional scissors to pay Castle Avarius a visit.

“That’s hardly my concern.” You tell her, wishing you felt half so confident as you sound. Though you don’t want to see Ludo dead, you refuse to meddle in Toffee’s affairs unless you must. You need to pick your battles, Moon. Ludo was a threat to Star. Now he’s simply one less loose end to worry about.

It disgusts you how similar you sound to _him_. River would be appalled if you said such a thing aloud. Oh, well. It does happen, you think, when one is too tired to stand up for every injustice. Sometimes, people slip through the cracks. At least Ludo won’t be missed. Lord and Lady Avarius will be pleased to hear their old home is vacant once more--as you doubt Toffee will leave any survivors. Apparently, his bleeding heart for all monsters everywhere ends with minor inconveniences. Typical. Who has time to be a revolutionary, when being an indiscriminate killer is faster?

Convinced you had everything well in hand, you continued your day. It’s amazing how an hour can change your disposition on a matter like this. 

Now Star, your heiress, stands before the throne with her human friend. He’s holding her hand. From your throne, you can see how tightly she’s holding on to him, too. That must hurt. Toffee is nowhere in sight. He isn’t anywhere, you realize, as Hekapoo’s presence registers for a different reason. If he were here, then he would never allow her so close to his daughter.

“So,” River starts, drawing you from your thoughts. Good heavens. That whistle in his front teeth. He must be terribly nervous. “It seems--”

“You’re not going to do that, are you?” Corn help you, you love your husband, but this isn’t something you can tolerate at the moment.

“What?”

“That whistling thing that happens with your teeth. I love you honey, I cannot deal with that right now.” You stand from your throne and give your heavy skirts a business-like straightening as you descend the stairs. Star is, after all, not on trial. There’s no need to speak down to her when she already dislikes you. “Star, what happened?”

She doesn’t answer. What’s more, she won’t even meet your eyes. That’s unusual for her. In your (admittedly few) conversations with her, she has always held your gaze as stubbornly as her father does. The entire room is silent. You give her a moment to answer before repeating yourself.

“Astera,” You take a slightly firmer tone. “What happened?”

She starts to cry. Of course that's the one thing that could catch you completely off-guard. Something is very, very wrong. Her human friend pulls her into a one-armed hug as her glamour starts to malfunction, revealing glints and glimmers of her true face for the second before she covers her face with equally unstable hands.

“I want everyone who is not a ruler of Mewni, my daughter, or her friend to leave the throne room.” You cast your eyes to the guards, the servants, and even the court squire. “Tend to your other duties. We require privacy. Hekapoo, you may stay as well.”

Star drops her glamour entirely as the last courtier leaves, falling to her knees in perfect time with the spell’s end as though concentrating on spellwork was the only thing keeping her on her feet. Something is terribly wrong. You expect Toffee to appear at any moment, lingering somewhere hidden by his daughter’s magic, but he doesn’t. There’s only his daughter, crying into her hands with her human standing by her protectively.

In your heart of hearts, you know Star isn’t playing pretend. She’s devastated. As little as you can claim to know about her, there’s only one explanation for this and her father’s absence, or Hekapoo’s close proximity to her. All of this together can indicate only one thing.

Toffee is gone.

Is it possible? It can’t be. There’s only one spell that will kill an immortal, and you are the only one alive and free to ever learn that spell. Nothing else is powerful enough. It must be a misunderstanding. At the very most he’s been blown into very small pieces as Queen Solaria once suggested would ‘do the trick’ with Septarians. You never had the stomach to try it. Even on him, your worst mistake, the man who ruined your life. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“Star,” You lower your voice carefully, coming to a stop directly in front of her. “Please look at me, won’t you? You aren’t in trouble. I promise.”

Even as you ask, you know she won’t be able to. She’s dropped her friend’s hand in favor of covering her eyes, but she makes no attempt to hide her broken, blackened cheek-hearts. How could she keep the glamour up at all without the wand? Her human friend--Marco, was it?--stands beside her with a bruised and painful-looking hand on her shoulder. The dark red ring of chafed skin and bruising around his wrist almost blends into his red clothing. Are those marks from manacles?

Marco the human decides that Star won’t be able to answer you, and speaks up. 

“Mr. Toffee is--”

“Don’t say it.” Star whimpers. “Please don’t, please.”

“...He’s gone. We don’t know where.”

“He’s not gone.”

“Ludo was angry that he couldn’t have the wand,” Marco says, looking at you now. “But he was scared of Mr. Toffee. He decided it would be better to kidnap me instead of Star, so Mr. Toffee wouldn’t come and kill everyone in his castle.”

You sigh. “Was he right?”

“No. He thought Star would come after me alone, but her dad told her to stay at the house while he came to get me.”

“And yet, she’s here on Mewni.”

“I didn’t listen,” Star whispers into her hands. “It was all my fault. I liked Ludo, he was, he was okay, fight him was f-fun and, and I didn’t want, want him to d-die…it was so stupid. He wanted the wand, but he couldn’t have it, but I didn’t need it, don’t need it, and…”

She breaks off into another sob, giving you a moment to process what she’s said.

“You don’t need the wand?” You repeat, disbelief coloring every word.

“I’ve got all these,” She sniffles. “Materials. Stuff that’s, that’s easy to make, that I can use to dip down.”

“And you can use those reliably enough to replace the wand?”

Star nods minutely. “So I thought since Ludo c-couldn’t, you know, I could, I could just destroy it, and then he would be okay. Maybe we could be allies. Then nobody else would die.”

“...Has someone died from this conflict before?”

“Yeah.” The human answers for her. “A guy died about a month ago.”

“Oh. Goodness. I assume Toffee...struck the killing blow, then?”

“He shot him.” 

“...And where is Ludo, at the moment? Is he...gone, as well?”

Star shivers. “I killed him.”

“We’re pretty sure all his guys are dea--gone,” He corrects himself quickly, but you hear Star’s breathing catch sharply in her throat. “But we didn’t look. The red and orange demon lady showed up before we could really check it out.”

“I see. Hekapoo, I would like to hear your account of what happened. Please.”

She shuffles forward, wand bouncing in her hand as she does. “I didn’t see very much. Toffee was talking to one of the castle monsters when I showed up, and that monster let him in. I don’t know what happened after, that because I came to warn you. You told me to fuck off, basically, but I decided it was worth watching. Just in case. When I got back the castle was gone. I found the princess and her human in the wreckage. She had the skull, and she said the wand was gone too.”

“It’s not, clearly.”

“No. But someone taught Star the Whispering Spell. I think she tried to destroy it, it backfired, and now she won’t even pick it up. She said we should bury it. Bury it!”

Star takes her friend’s hand as tightly as before. “I’m never going to touch that thing again.” 

“So you decided to destroy it?!” Hekapoo bristles. “Thousands of years of magical power and tradition, unfathomable ties to the magic of this universe and you just want to put it in the garbage?!”

“No. I wanted to kill it, strip its corpse for study materials, and make peace with Ludo over it.”

“What the _hell?!_ ”

You should step in before this escalates, shouldn’t you? “Now, ladies, please. Let’s...get back to the matter at hand. Hekapoo, where did you find the wand?”

“It was in a huge crater a couple hundred feet away from the wreckage. We watched it come back to life. The wand tried to present itself to Star, but she refused. So I picked it up--sort of. I didn’t touch it.” She suspends it in your direction. “Just in case. Take it from me.”

You do so very carefully, as though the wand might bite your fingers if you startle it. Something about it is...wrong. It doesn’t change to your usual wand at your touch. You stare down at it, perplexed. Something is definitely wrong, it looks different than it did before. You curse yourself for not paying more attention to its appearance before this happened. 

“What’s happened to you, my friend?” Gently, you run a finger over the broken crystal star. That doesn’t seem right at all, and you can’t hear the usual song of magic that hums under the wandface in every form it takes. 

Was it always darkened this way? You’ve never seen the wand manifest as broken, even if it’s stylized. What’s more, you see the faintly embossed eye behind the crystal winking as you turn it from side to side. Unsettling. You wonder if it would do that for any monster that picked it up.

“I’ll...get it cleaned for you, Star.” You say.

“Keep it. I told you, I’m never touching it again.”

“The Royal Wand--”

“Killed my dad. Fuck you, I’m not touching it. It’s evil.”

Hekapoo growls.

“....I understand what you’ve said. This conversation can wait until a different day. We will discuss this,” you add, trying to sound stern and getting a hateful glare in response. The skull helmet that looked so out of place with her glamour suits her real face. You’re reminded of another Septarian with a fondness for wearing bones. If she must wear a skull, you should be grateful that it isn’t mewman. “But other matters take precedence. You say your father is gone. Do you have reason to think he’s dead?”

“Moon.” River cuts in carefully, following you down the stairs. “That’s a bit harsh.”

“It’s a simple question. Is your father dead?”

Your husband clears his throat unhappily. 

“River, please.” This isn’t something you want to argue with him about. You need this information to decide what you’ll do next.

“She’s a child, Moon. Star, my girl, take your time.”

“I’m not your girl.”

“Yes, of course.” River scratches his head nervously. This is what happens when you don’t warn him of danger properly. He thinks he can charm his way out of this. “That was a little rude of me, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, princess.”

She takes a step back, the skull throwing her face into shadow. “I don’t believe you. Don’t talk to me.”

“Star!”

“No, no. It's quite alright.” River flashes her a smile. “It's quite alright. A young lady should stand up for herself. She's doing splendidly.”

“She needs to control her temper.”

“Wait, what?” Marco the human slips himself between Star and your husband, but looks to you in disbelief. “Seriously? Lady, you made her live in a dungeon!”

“That is no way to address a Queen, young man, and I’m not the one who tried to destroy the most powerful magic wand in known history. Mind your tongue.”

“The hell I will?!” He pulls Star closer to him. “And don't talk to her?! We’re going home now.”

Hekapoo snorts. “With what? Neither of you earned The Lizard’s scissors. You need to hand them over.”

“That’s a great ideas.” Star snaps, drawing herself up straight and producing the simple, silver scissors out of her back trouser pocket to offer them out. “Why don't you _take them from me?_ ”

For the first time since you met Hekapoo as a little girl, she hesitates.

“Er…”

“I didn't think so.” She lowers the scissors to her side, but doesn't put them away. “Marco’s right. We have to get back.”

“You can't possibly think you’re going back to earth right now.”

“No, you can't possibly think I'm staying here without my dad to protect me.”

“You couldn't stay in the palace because of your father, nothing to do with your safety.”

“And I don't go places he's not welcome, that hasn't changed, and I hate you. So!” Her free hand finds her hip. “I’m going back to earth. Nothing to do with--ugh. You’re not going to stop me, or I'm going to run screaming through the city streets flashing my glamour off and on until everybody knows you’re a monster-fucker and you lied about it, ‘kay?”

River chokes on his own spit beside you. You don't let yourself flinch, staring Star down as intently as she stares at you.

“Do you see this helmet?” She asks, eyes boring into yours. “I just killed the last two generals of the Monster Army, and I’m not scared of you.”

“...Moon-Pie,” Your husband cuts in before you can answer, saving you from losing your temper. “We should let her go.”

“What?”

“The girl just lost her father. She has plenty of reason to hate us, and she's been very good on earth. Why don't we...let her return, for the time being, hm? What does it hurt?”

“She has a set of dimensional scissors.”

“Two sets.” Star corrects, pulling another, more stylized pair of scissors from her seemingly bottomless trouser pocket. It must be enchanted. “Ludo gave me his. We both know it's legal. Hekapoo can't take either pair.”

No, she can't. The demoness nods silently. Star is right, the scissors are hers. 

“She has two sets of dimensional scissors. Do you expect me to let her roam about unchecked, after everything she’s done today? To say nothing of previous dimensional incursions; she destroyed a quarter of Saint Olga’s guard staff, revealed herself to Prince Lucitor--”

“That was my fault.” Marco says. “I should have warned her right away. She didn’t mean for him to see her, or she’d be dead. Right?”

“Then she has still flouted interdimensional property laws! Not to mention the complete destruction of Castle Avarius, the deaths of everyone inside at the time, and her attempt to destroy the Royal Magic Wand! What will you do next, attempt to burn the Book of Spells?!”

“No. I like Glossaryk. He’s a gross little man, but he’s our gross little man. Erstwhile would miss him.”

“...That is another issue entirely. How can I trust a child raised by not one, but now two enemies of the state?”

“You can’t.” Your husband catches your arm, drawing your attention away from the bubbling vat of anger that is your thoughts. “Moon, please.”

“Don’t do this to me right now.”

He looks sad, even apologetic, but continues nonetheless. “She may look like him, but this little girl isn’t the Immortal Monster. She’s only a little girl.”

“She’s wearing a skull as a helmet!”

“That doesn’t make her Toffee. Why don’t we take a walk, Madame General?” Now he’s speaking to Star, ignoring your protests in favor of looking her in the eye. “You’re welcome to bring your lieutenant.”

He can’t possibly be serious. Yet Star looks...intrigued, if hesitant.

“...Very well, Your Majesty.”

“Splendid! Follow me, won’t you? I know just the route.”

You watch him escort her out of the room with a mixture of rage and disbelief. River is...being diplomatic? Though she’s guarded and (rightfully) suspicious, Star allows him to respectfully offer his arm. Her glamour rises as she leaves the room, her human trailing behind like a lost duckling. They’re only children, you remind yourself, forcing your fury away for a moment. River has always been good with children. This is something you’ll have to discuss with him later.

For now, there are other matters requiring your attention. Only Hekapoo remains in the throne room, looking as deeply discomfited as yourself.

“I can’t take the scissors.” She repeats. “It’s legitimate. She inherited them.”

“I don’t think I knew Ludo Avarius even attempted a scissor quest, much less succeeded.”

“It took him more than twenty years. He disappeared into my dimension. In the end, I forgot about him. He caught me off-guard. I thought he was already dead.”

“That does sound like him, from what I’ve heard. Still, to provoke Toffee in such a way--”

“Do you think Star really killed him?”

“I don’t know what to think of her at all. She’s a perfect stranger to me.”

“She can already dip down.” Hekapoo shakes her head. “I would think it was impossible, if you weren’t holding the wand.”

“I can scarcely believe it myself. Come, we’ll continue this conversation in my office. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have time to spare.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

 

\----------

 

Be Star.

It isn’t that you aren’t upset. In fact, you’ve never been so upset in your life. It’s like you’re so upset, you can’t even think about how upset you are without the whole world crumbling around you. Right now you’re numb. Nothing seems real to you right now.

For all you can tell, you’re dead. Or asleep. Or in some kind of alternate nightmare dimension where you have to talk to Moon and you’ll never get to see the Diaz’s again. Any moment now they’ll send Marco away, and you’ll be alone here. 

Maybe they’ll decide it was a mistake to let you out at all. King River could be leading you straight to the dungeons and you wouldn’t even know it until it was too late. They’ll do something to cancel out your magic, reinforce the door, and you’ll never see the sun again.

They could just burn you this time. For all your brave faces, you know that your insane alien puberty didn’t make you invincible. You’re still thirteen, you’re still small for your age, and burning will kill a Septarian even if they aren’t young. It’s happened to a lot of your people at this point, hasn’t it? 

Like your dad.

No, you can’t afford to think about it. Push it away. Block the memory. Everything is fine, you’re on a diplomatic mission right now, and Papa is waiting for you at home. You need to believe that right now, or you’re going to be off-guard and that will make you dead.

Like your dad.

No. Focus, Star. Nothing is wrong. This is a diplomatic mission. Listen to King River.

“Though I suppose you haven’t had time to think of it, did you know you’re a princess and a military leader?” The king doesn’t sound upset about that, leading cheerfully along the garden path. 

This all feels far too _'Of Mice & Men'_ for your taste. Sure, the flowers are pretty, but if you look at them too long you’re sure someone will have a gun to the back of your head. This is why you need to focus.

“Pardon?

“If any of Ludo’s men are alive, they’re sworn to serve him or his replacement. Since you have his, er, lovely hat and his dimensional scissors, that really makes you a general.”

“Oh. I thought you were condescending me.”

“No, no. It’s all very official. Don’t tell Moon-Pie I’ve told you that, alright? She would be furious.”

“If you think I’m an evil enemy of the state, you probably shouldn’t have told me that.”

“I don’t think you’re evil or an enemy of the state, Madame General. I think you’re a bright young lady having what’s possibly the worst day of your life.”

“Well, my life is basically just a lot of terrible days strung together with a couple of nice moments hidden in them to lead me on.”

“And I think that some of the blame for that is mine. There’s more I could have done for you before now, as one of few who knew about you.”

“If I may be honest, Your Majesty, I don’t care very much about what you do or don’t do for me, beyond a morbid curiosity.”

“And what are you curious about?”

You hesitate, but he smiles encouragingly despite probably knowing what you’re going to ask him.

“Why did you marry Moon?”

“I love her.” He says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world.

“She cheated on you with a monster, though.”

“Ah, yes, it seems that way to you. But I knew all about that. You see, Moon and I were engaged as friends before.”

“...What?”

“It’s quite common! As the Queen she was expected to marry by twenty at the latest, but she turned twenty-one unwed. People were starting to talk, as they do, unflattering rumors were circulating and we could only stop them with marriage. No one knew the true reason she wouldn’t marry--except for myself.”

“And what was that reason?”

“She was in love with someone she couldn’t have.”

“Who?”

The King smiles. “General Toffee of Septarsis, of course.”

“She was--what?” That’s all you can think to say. “What?”

“I know it’s strange to hear, but you weren’t an accident. As much as Moon pretends it isn’t so, she loved your father. She never did tell me what came between them.”

“You’re kidding, right? He killed her mother, for starters, and whatever else happened--”

“Now, Star, you’re a smart young lady. Your father was incredibly persuasive. He convinced us all that it wasn’t his doing, and I think she believes that even now.”

“He did.” You say, feeling surreal. “He definitely did that. That’s a thing he definitely did and is proud of. Do you believe that he did?”

“Yes, and no. There were other things going on, I think, don’t you? All I know for certain is that they were happy together, once. You were not, like you might assume, conceived in a dungeon.”

_What?_ This time you don’t have to say it out loud. Your shock is answer enough, you think, and King River gives you an inscrutable smile. The king is clearly not as stupid as he looks. Saying that out loud would be rude, but you’re starting to think he can tell a lot more from your expressions than you thought he could.

“Moon told me first, you know. I was the only person in court she could trust. She was terrified, but even fear couldn’t hide how excited she was.” He continues with a hint of sadness, still smiling reassuringly at you. “They thought it was impossible. I hadn’t seen her look so alive as she did with him since her mother passed, and when she discovered she was expecting--well, I thought she just might marry him after all!”

“Were you angry?”

“I was sad. Love does that. I loved her even then, but I cared much more about her happiness than being king or even being her husband. Once, I thought Toffee felt the same. She never did tell me what happened… and to this very day, she won’t speak of it.”

There’s this terrible, sick feeling in your stomach. Queen Moon loved him? That’s not possible. You can’t think of a way for that to be possible, but you don’t want to give away what you know if the king thinks he’s successfully manipulating you. After all, he’s smarter than you thought. What are you giving away right now with your silence? All you can do is look pensive and nod the second you think of it, try to focus on the gardens and Marco beside you while hoping he doesn’t notice your hesitation.

“...I always thought of you, you know. Moon expected me to be jealous, I think, but jealousy is so...draining, isn’t it? Jealousy is for the ambitious. I never did have the patience for it. She wouldn’t hear of asking questions about you and how you were doing even years later. In the end, before you went to Earth, I started to suspect she’d never even met you herself.”

Unless the king is an excellent actor, which you doubt, he actually sounds sad as he continues. You don’t know what to make of that. Something tells you that confirming his fears would be in poor taste. He’s being nice to you, isn’t he? As far as you can guess, he’s just being nice as he continues.

“We found out she couldn’t have more children. That always weighed on her. It made her bitter about everything. She wanted to forget whatever happened, but I couldn’t. I wondered about you often; what you would look like, what sort of person you were, that sort of thing.”

“But I’m not even your kid.”

“Whether she likes to remember it or not, you’re Moon’s daughter. I could never hate a part of her.”

“I’m not a part of her.”

“I meant--”

“I’m my dad’s daughter. That’s all. Just because she donated some time and material doesn’t make me her daughter or yours. Are you going to let me go home, King River?”

“...Yes, Star. I am.” His disappointment almost hurts you. Almost.

“Why?”

“You lost your entire family today. Go home, and rest. The Diaz family will want to see you, won't they?”

You nod. This is some kind of trap, though you’ve slipped out of the first one. No idiot with a bleeding heart is going to make you pity the Queen. If there’s anything you know, she doesn’t deserve your pity. Even if what you think might have happened actually happened.

“Then you’ll see them. Let me worry about Moon. It will be best if she doesn’t catch you before you go. And Star?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.” The King smiles at you. If there’s a hint of ulterior motives in him, you still can’t see it. That might be more jarring to you than a plot on your life, or some kind of manipulation. As far as you can tell, he means it. Be careful.

“...I will.”

Not that you’ll be careful for his sake. But as you cut open a portal back to Earth and usher Marco through it, you look back and see that King River is waving goodbye. You don’t have time to unpack this right now.

 

\----------

 

Be Moon the Severely Exhausted. Undaunted? Ha. This day is nothing if not daunting. And just when you pieced together a plan with Hekapoo to send Star to live with the Magic High Council in light of her father’s death, River enters your office with a stomach-turning announcement.

“I’ve let Star go home.”

“You’ve...what?” He’s _WHAT?!_ You have to force yourself to take a breath before you speak, or you’re going to yell. “River, why in corn would you do that! She is the single most dangerous monster in all of Mewni, and you let her go?!”

“She’s not a monster. She’s a little girl who’s lost her closest friend and ally today. I told her she could go to the Diaz family. I’m sure they’re missing her, and she’ll feel much safer there. Glossaryck will keep an eye on her.”

“We can’t trust Glossaryck with this! You’ve met him, and you don’t know him as I do. He won't stop her if she starts committing treason! He might even think it’s funny and help her!!”

“...I should go,” says Hekapoo, already backing out of the room as though she thought moving slowly would keep you from noticing.

“Absolutely not! You will sit right back down while I sort this out in a constructive way, and then we will call an immediate meeting of the High Commission!”

“Moon, no offense,” Something she always says before saying something extremely offensive. “She’s a little kid. I don’t think she’s as good at dipping down as she says. You have the wand, The Lizard is dead, and she’s twelve.”

“Thirteen.”

“Right. So sorry. She’s thirteen. What’s she going to do, delete a dimension?”

“Maybe!”

Hekapoo snorts. “Come on. She’s basically a baby. You’re just freaking out because you fucked up and let your evil baby daddy raise your brat.” 

“...Excuse me?”

“Uh, pretty sure you heard me. River, could you back me up on this?”

Wisely, your husband keeps his mouth shut. To say you’re offended is an understatement. What possessed her to say that? You’re the Queen, for corn’s sake! It’s not her place to judge you, when she was made with magic and never had to deal with mortal things like bouts of teenaged stupidity and complicated succession. This is wholly inappropriate and completely unprofessional! Never in your life have you been spoken to this way, and you will have order in your office whether Hekapoo likes it or not.

Just as you open your mouth to tell her exactly that, there’s a soft knock on your closed office door. Who could possibly think interrupting you when your door is closed is a good idea? Are you, or are you not the Queen?!

“Excuse me, Your Majesty.” The post worker’s voice is muffled by the thick wooden barrier. “I have a letter for you.”

“Send it to my advisors.” You order, eyes never leaving Hekapoo’s smug face. Infuriating, she’s absolutely infuriating.

“Your Majesty, it’s one of _those letters_.”

You sigh. Just as things seemed as though they couldn’t be any more complicated. Both Hekapoo and River are staring at you now in varying degrees of confusion.

“I’ll take it, then.” Though you walk to the door, opening it halfway so as not to show the post worker Hekapoo in all her glory. Members of the Magical High Commission do so unnerve your citizens. “Thank you, Arwen.”

Two pairs of eyes follow you as you return to your desk, letter in hand.

“...What’s in the letter?” Hekapoo asks.

“Nothing.”

“Is it from Seth?” River asks, making the demoness spark up immediately.

“You get letters from _SETH?!_ ” Oh, lovely, her hair is on fire. That ash is never going to come out of the carpet. “Why wasn’t didn’t you tell anyone about this?!”

“I did. I told my husband. Do you mind?”

“Yes! I mind! What the hell is Seth of Septarsis writing to you about?!”

“The usual, I assume, but I haven’t read it yet. He does this on occasion.”

That’s the truth. This is hardly an unexpected development, and not at all so serious as Hekapoo thinks. King Seth of Septarsis writes you once a year. His letter always arrives on the same day. He makes only one request in each letter, and the request is always the same. You open the letter despite knowing the contents. One can never afford to ignore their enemies--no matter how difficult their writing is to slough through.

“It’s nothing.” You assure her. “I simply prefer to handle Seth quietly.”

“Why?”

“He’s difficult enough without throwing this letter to my circus of advisors. Rumors start on their own, they don’t need any help. I certainly don’t need the Commission breathing down my neck about this, as you might understand.”

“Can I read this letter?”

“Of course. Let me read it first, please.”

“Read it out loud.”

That’s as close to a compromise as you’re going to get at the moment. As much as you’d like to throw the letter in her face like a child, you know that cooperating is a better option. Hekapoo has always been rude. It shouldn’t surprise you anymore. This letter has nothing to do with appeasing her, and everything to do with appeasing the rest of the Magical High Commission when they find out you’ve been keeping secrets. Resigned, you start to read.

 

“ _Unto Her Royal Majesty, Whom It May Concern,_  
Esteemed Queen Moon the Undaunted of the queendom of Mewni.  
__**King Seth of the kingdom of Septarsis** sends his regards.

_This order has been written by **Speaker Senoshu Hitstlee** of Ignia and notarized by the People’s Congress of Septarsis, located in Ignia, Aspax, Septarsis._

_We, the people’s government of Septarsis, have been writing to you for many years with many warnings and informal requests for reparations in the form of the return of all Septarian citizens taken prisoner during the time of the **Second Monster War**._

_As this is our fifteenth notice with little to no response, we are now writing to issue you a formal cease and desist order regarding your arrest and detention of a sole remaining Septarian citizen by the legal name and military rank **Commissioned General Toffee Uhlayiss, of the kingdom of Septarsis** without due legal process. He has committed no interdimensionally ratified war crimes. While we understand your distress over his one (1) count of regicide and two (2) counts of attempted regicide, the difference in law between our kingdoms absolves him of this crime interdimensionally. As he is not a citizen subject to your laws and sovereignty, we have determined your continued detention to be unlawful unless he is sworn into your country as a citizen and given the right to due process and a fair trial by his peers (including, but not limited to Septarians given legal rights in Mewni or any member of a race declared ‘Monstrous’ under Mewni law)._

_The continued detention of **Commissioned General Toffee Uhlayiss** without due process trespasses on the **Treatise of Peace** ratified by both of our nations. Please cease and desist your unlawful conduct. Our court requests your immediate action on this matter. Punitive action taken may include (but is not limited to) the deployment of professional repossession officers, political retaliation (including but not limited to a subpoena of all documents generated for the sake of and related to the subject of this cease and desist, the deployment of an official diplomatic contingency and a reasonable number of protection officers, and an official diplomatic visit from His Royal Majesty, King Seth of the kingdom of Septarsis), or a formal declaration of war._

_Herein, the term ‘immediate action’ is reasonably interpreted as within one month from the reception of this formal cease and desist notice. We hope this request finds you in good health._

_We have the honor of being your obedient servant,_

**Senoshu Hitstlee, of Ignia. ******

_Speaker of the People’s Congress_  
_425 Central Martyr’s Street,  
Ignia, Aspax, Septarsis 150026._” 

These letters always make something in you twist uncomfortably. Something about the implication that you’re doing some wrong never sits well with you. Nevermind that you aren’t bound by Septarian law, and these letters are an intimidation tactic you should have long become comfortable with. 

Yet this letter is more strongly worded than others of its kind. In another time you might laugh at how pretentious and official it is. Today it isn’t the stiff writing format and signatures that puts you so ill at ease. Below the official correspondence, scratched into the stationary with a quill instead of the impossibly uniform ink printed above, is another message that you read silently before wordlessly handing Hekapoo the letter.

“ _I tire of waiting, Moon._ ” She reads. “ _We both know he lives. Return the boy and his child to me. I want to meet my granddaughter._ ” 

****

********


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star fakes it until she makes it, and Moon learns about biased histories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 25 pages long in the google doc. Wild.

Be Star.

Angie and Rafael really are happy to hear you and Marco are okay. They’ll be home in just a few hours, since both of you are too young to be alone overnight without an adult (don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it) and they want to see Marco.

It takes Ms. Angie scooping you up in a hug to realize they wanted to see you just as much. Marco explained a little of what happened over the phone. You can tell Ms. Angie’s been crying, even before she’s happy-crying because you’re okay. She and Mr. Rafael both hug you just as tight as they got Marco, to the point where it would be claustrophobic if you weren’t so relieved to be back on Earth.

But now the reunion is over, and it’s time to talk about what happens.

They’re very gentle about it, of course, giving you whiplash as you go from Queen Moon’s throne room to Angie Diaz petting your hair and promising you don’t have to talk about everything right away. She sends Marco and her husband off to get take-out for dinner. Once they’re gone, you realize she’s done it on purpose and you’re not going to get out of this without giving her some answers.

Smart. It doesn’t even bother you, because you really like her. 

“Will you be able to stay on Earth?” Is her first question. “Of course you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like--”

“I want to stay here. Please.”

“Good. Excellent. We’ll be happy to have you.”

“...Ludo only kidnapped Marco because of me. You’re in danger as long as I’m here, even if it won’t be Ludo bothering us anymore.”

“And you’re in danger no matter where you go. I think we know enough to accept the risk, Star. We care about you too much to let that Moon woman take you back to Mewni alone.” She says, surprisingly ferocious under her worry. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Oh.” 

Brilliant, Star. You’re a genius. Is that really all you can say? She’s offering you her home after you already mostly-destroyed it twice, got Marco kidnapped, and then killed a bunch of people doing something stupid that you shouldn’t have done. You don’t even know how to process this.

There’s also no time to process it, since a full ten seconds after Angie speaks a portal opens up in the exact middle of the living room.

“Star!” The Queen herself steps out of the portal, looking much more upset than the last time you saw her. “You have to come back to Mewni, right now.”

“The hell she does.” Angie puts her arm around your shoulder, guiding you behind her. 

“Angela, please, you don’t understand. We need to talk and I’m afraid it’s not something that can wait.”

“Since it’s my house, I don’t think we do. Star is staying here.”

“She can’t stay here, it isn’t safe. Star, please, listen to me. Something has changed. Your father--”

“Don’t do that!” She actually covers your ears, but you can still hear them both. “Don’t you put words in his mouth. She just lost her father, how dare you--”

“It’s the truth, Angela, please. Listen to me. I’m not here to kidnap her. I’m here to talk with her. Something very important is happening, and it concerns her as well as you and your family. I won’t come any closer.” Moon raises both hands in the universal sign of surrender. “It truly can’t wait, I promise you. Star, you’re in danger.”

“Fine.” You shrug off Angie’s hands. “Talk.”

“It’s...rather a long story, I--”

You sit down on the floor, never breaking eye contact despite your new helmet shifting when you move. The Queen hesitates, but you’ll have none of it. This isn’t her castle. On Earth she isn’t a queen at all, and even if she was she can sit on the floor. It’s petty. You’re petty. You’re thirteen. What’s her excuse?

“Talk.”

“Is there somewhere we could…?”

“We’ll talk here. Sit down, if you want to sit.” You cross your legs purposefully, planting yourself down where you’ve sat to be sure she knows you aren’t moving and fix her with your best glare. “But we’ll talk here, or we won’t talk at all.”

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Sucks for her. There’s a moment where you think she’ll just leave, like you could be that lucky--if whatever this is isn’t as serious as she’s saying, she won’t stand for this behavior and you’ll be rid of her. 

Haltingly, she lowers herself to the floor a few feet in front of you. Her huge, ridiculous dress puffs up around her like a beanbag with something heavy dropped in the middle, out of place in the mostly beige-and-green living room. Still behind you, Angie puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you want some privacy?”

“Yes.” The Queen says, just as you say no.

“I wasn’t asking you, Your Majesty.” And you know without looking that she’s glaring at the Queen too. “Star, would you like some privacy?”

“...Yes, please.”

“I’ll just be upstairs. Call for me, if you need me.” Angie bends to kiss the top of your head before she goes. It’s a nice gesture, and it brings back a lot of memories--too many, you can’t think about this. Don’t think about it. 

“I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to decide the best way to start this conversation.” The Queen admits as soon as Angie is out of earshot. “We haven’t even begun, and I’m already at a loss. This isn’t what I expected.”

“Good.”

“You’re a very commanding young lady. I didn’t learn to hold a room like you can until long after my coronation.”

If she thinks flattery will get her anywhere, she should think again. “Did you come here to share childhood stories?”

“...No.”

“Then?”

She hesitates before continuing. “How much did your father tell you about his life?”

It’s your turn to be at a loss. How much did Papa tell you about his life? Well, that’s a hell of a question. He told you everything, as far as you know, but saying ‘everything’ isn’t going to help. That’s the problem with living forever. Papa is (was, no, don’t think about it) centuries old. Which century is she asking about?

“More than he told you,” is what you settle for. 

“Did he tell you about the war?”

“Yes.”

“And before that?”

It’s hard not to hesitate, but you force yourself to relax. “Yes.”

“Do you know who his parents were, Star?”

“Yes.” 

The Queen gives you an expectant look, as though she thinks you’ll just volunteer the information out. Funny how she thinks you’re going to give her anything she already knows. There’s tense silence for a beat.

“...I need you to confirm his parents’ names, Star.”

You pretend to think about that for a moment. “You first.”

“His mother was a broodmother named Miriam Farah Uhlayiss. Your father carried her name as a mark of what he was--that is, a bastard.”

You snort.

“....Born out of wedlock, as I understand it. My apologies.” She shifts uncomfortably in place. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“It’s not what I was trying to say. I know that he was born differently from most Septarians. Miriam was his biological mother, but I don’t know who his father was. That’s what I need you to confirm.”

If she’s lying at all right now, she’s doing a convincing job of it. Or maybe you’re just bad at reading mewman faces, since you thought the same thing about her husband and you were definitely missing something.

“His name is Seth.”

She nods, as though that’s what she expected to hear. “Did Toffee tell you that?”

“No, I made the name up.” Why is she even bothering to ask you, if she thinks you’re lying? “What do you think? His father’s name is Seth, and he’s a real bastard.”

The Queen seems to relax. “I see. Your father wasn’t fond of him, then?”

“No. He pretty much killed Queen Comet to fuck him over, actually, instead of going home when the war was ending.”

To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch when you bring up her mother. Disappointing. “Why he would rebel against his king and father? Did he ever tell you why? ”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Hm.” Once again, you pretend to think about your answer. “Why do you need to know?”

“Seth is looking for you and your father. I don’t know his intentions, but your father told me...some time ago how much he hated the man. Please, this is very important. Did he tell you why you had to keep away from Seth?”

“...He’s dangerous, and a tyrant. That’s all my dad said.”

“Is there nothing else? You never pressed him for more?”

“I don’t need to burn myself to know fire is hot, Your Majesty. All due respect and blah, blah, blah. If my dad says someone is dangerous, then I stay away from them. My dad never said anything else about him...”

“I’m sensing a _‘but.’_ ”

“Gee, perceptive. Don’t interrupt me.” You already regret deciding to share this next part. “...My dad never said anything else about him, but he’s not the only enemy of state around to tell me about Septarsis.”

Her face lights up so brightly it’s almost funny. “You’re referring to the severed head?”

“His name is Erstwhile. There are other things about him.” Even if that happens to be the first really, really noticeable thing. “But yeah, Erstwhile.”

“Such a curious name. And what did he say?”

“Nothing, yet. I haven’t asked.”

“Could I...speak with him?”

No, you want to say, but bite your tongue. Literally. Ow. It’s a good thing that will grow back.

“...Yes, but we’ll have to go to him.” And making her sit on the floor was so satisfying, ugh. Maybe she’ll trip on the way up the stairs. “But first you have to make sense. What’s going on?”

“Could I explain it to both of you?”

“No, because I think you might be here to murder my teacher and I don’t want to take you upstairs until I know why you’re here.”

She sighs. “Star, if your teacher is as ancient and power as you think, I won’t be able to simply walk in and kill him. Even in his current form. Can he cast?”

“Yes, but so can you.”

“That’s true.”

“There’s a lot of really complicated magic on his jar to keep him alive. That’s why I didn’t take him to the hearing. If you cast on him--”

“--Which I won’t.”

“--Right. Sure. Because I definitely trust your word. But there’s a way I can allow it, I guess.” You hold out a hand, pinky extended. “If you swear not to cast in my room.”

She stares down at your hand as though it’s a snake that might bite her.

“...What are the conditions of this promise?”

“You won’t cast in my room at all, and you won’t so much as touch my teacher as long as you live.”

“I could simply go upstairs.”

“You could, if my room wasn’t warded. My dad was the greatest general Septarsis ever saw, do you really think I don’t know how to protect myself?”

“No.” She gives you the strangest look, a mix of annoyance and pride. “My, you’re precocious. You’ve thought of everything.”

“Humans have a saying about it. The best offense is a good defense.”

The Queen actually smiles at that. “They’re right. What kind of traps did you set?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to forget about until it’s too late. Swear, and I’ll take you upstairs.”

 

\----------

 

Be Moon, equal parts startled and impressed with how Star handles your appearance.

She really has thought of everything. While that shouldn’t be surprising to you (given who raised her), it’s still jarring to see how mature she is at only thirteen. She already conducts herself like a Queen. Not a queen, you think, watching the back of her horned skull helmet as she ascends the stairs. She conducts herself like a general. Is that any surprise?

Despite seeing her room once before, you’re impressed with the magic holding it together. This really is a beautiful room. You wonder how she came up with the design, if she’s never been anywhere like it before. Could it be pure imagination? 

If Star notices that you’re impressed, she doesn’t mention it. The girl marches straight to a dark door you noticed during your last visit. This must be her study. She puts a hand on the door, whispering a handful of incomprehensible incantations before it glides open.

“Erstwhile!” She calls. “We have company!”

You don’t wait for an invitation to follow her inside. Darker than the rest of her room, it takes a moment for you to get your bearings as she flashes on a light. You’re standing in a smaller, cramped-looking room. There’s a heavy desk in the corner, framed by bookcases obscuring most of the walls. What little of the wall isn’t obscured by the shelving is plastered with papers; diagrams and sigils labeled in a language you scarcely recognize, as well as a map of Mewni. It might be labeled in Septira, but you aren’t sure.

Star traipses over to the desk to throw open a short cupboard on the inside face of it. You expect her to draw out some kind of book, but instead she stands up with an armful of her...teacher. He really is more disturbing to look at than even Glossaryck could describe. More disturbing than the state he’s in (his lack of a body) is the way his two eyes split between looking at you and looking at Star. At the same time. Truly unnerving. 

The head alone is almost larger than Star’s torso. It must be heavy, but she thumps it down on the desk with ease and a jarred sigh of displeasure at being handled so roughly.

“And who have you brought me today, Princess Uhlayiss?” It has a high, papery voice, the eerie ghost of a real speaking voice. “Is she very important?”

“This is Queen Moon.”

“Ah. Comet’s child.” Both its eyes flicker to you, multicolored and alien. It occurs to you that you’ve never seen a Septarian like him. Most of the troops were larger, more intimidating subspecies--even Toffee, smaller than his men, struck a more imposing figure in the crowd than you suspect this creature could. Though even as a severed head, his eyes cut through you like nothing else you’ve ever felt. “You have questions. Come closer then, child. Let me look at you.” 

You decline the offer, remaining in the doorway. “You are Erstwhile?”

“Master Librarian Erstwhile, Your Majesty. Though I lack a library to attend to at the moment, I am at your service.”

Something about the way he says that, looking you over so intently, gives you the opposite feeling. As though having no arms won’t keep him from stabbing you in the back. 

“I see.” It smiles, showing you slimy pink gums that make you feel like retching. “Cultural racism at its finest. You’re a very suspicious woman, Queen Moon. I bear you no ill will. What harm could I do to you, in this form?”

“I know you’re a sorcerer. Did you support the war?”

“Only after it concerned me, I assure you. So little to be gained in war. There is so much is lost to the annals of time when a culture dies. I had no interest in the fighting itself.”

“...Yet you had some interest in the outcome, I assume.”

“Naturally. In my opinion, the war ended with your mother’s death. Why punish an entire race for one terrible decision? I bear you no ill will, daughter of Mewni. You were a child when Verspool burned. Your stake in the war was alien to my own, I’m afraid, and that does render any attempt at vengeance upon you rather moot. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

“Can you read my thoughts?”

“Oh...it’s not so much reading, you know, as the art of sorting through the noise. True telepathy is useless. I can divine your intentions far more easily that I could sort through your individual thoughts. You come with questions, but not the questions you should be asking.”

“And what do you think I’ll ask?”

“You want insight into King Seth’s motivations and history, if I understand your desires correctly.”

“He was probably spying on us downstairs,” Star says to you, not sounding the least bit bothered. “He does that.”

“And you see nothing wrong with that, I suppose?”

She shrugs. “Fact of life. Don’t worry, Glossaryck does it too. They talk shit about everyone when they think nobody’s around. I already put up a barrier around the bathroom.”

“Your Grace is most permissible.” Erstwhile smiles slyly at her, and you detect the barest hint of fondness in his tone. “Spying is a serious offense, my princess.”

“What are you going to do, sell my secret scalecare routine to the black market? I don’t do much.”

“That might have been true before.”

“Right. Things may have changed, but I trust you, Master. You’ve taught me almost everything I know.”

“Almost everything.” Glossaryck agrees, startling you as he pops into existence on the edge of Star’s desk. “That’s a nice helmet.”

He must do that to her often. Star doesn’t even flinch. “Thanks. I killed a guy for it.”

“Mmhm. Moon, great to see you.” He says, though you get the impression it’s disingenuous. “WIll you also be throwing away tradition and stabbing me in the heart to learn from a shady, back-alley librarian?”

Erstwhile laughs. “Back-alley librarians are formidable enough, friend.”

“I’ve seen that. Don’t let him talk over you, Moon, just ask your questions. He’ll never stop otherwise.”

“Very well.” You clear your throat pointedly. “Erstwhile, do you know why Seth is so interested in Toffee and Star?”

“Yes.”

And you thought Star learned to be evasive from her father. No one in this house wants to give you straight answers. “Will you tell me why?”

“Yes, of course, but I’ll answer your question with a question of context. What do you know about Septarian Mothers?”

“Only what Queen Solaria wrote of them.” Namely, how to kill them. Or so Solaria hoped. She never got to test her theory on the matter, as far as you or anyone alive can tell.

“She only wrote on one, as the mothers rarely leave our dimension--unlawful, you see. It just so happens that, for the purpose of this discussion, she wrote on the one Mother of any importance.”

“Which means…?”

“She wrote about Margrarot Uhlayiss, though she didn’t bother recording the last name. More’s the pity. Names are so important, don’t you think?”

Having read the entire Royal Book of Spells so frequently that you can almost picture the page. Solaria inked in a rough sketch of a woman, and beside it; a theory about all Septarian women being so monstrous as this one, the name _‘Margrarot’_ in shaky hand, a reminder to herself for her Monster Annihilation spell. She met one of these Mothers. If the experience left Solaria the Monster Carver shaken, how will you handle this?

Knowledge of Miriam and her crystal prison surfaces ever so briefly in your mind, her bloody hair and bared fangs flashing briefly behind your eyes as you blink before forcing the thought away. Erstwhile doesn’t need to know of that. 

“...In this case, yes.”

“In most cases,” he corrects. “But this case in particular. Historically, the Uhlayiss name has been powerful in political circles. Mothers are the most powerful beings in our dimension, and they are meant to be kept secret. It’s a matter of security. Margrarot’s adventuring outside of our home dimension began this mess.”

“And yet you’re going to tell me about the Mothers, I hope?”

“Ad technicality, you are one of them. You bore a daughter of Septarsis and lived. I see no reason not to tell you about the tradition, and I’ll tell you plainly that being a Mother directly protects you from Seth in the eyes of his people. Law is not my forte, but even I know that it is illegal to intentionally harm a Mother...regardless of her crimes. Not even Seth could excuse it, if your situation were more widely known.”

“Is that why he wants Star?”

“That is part of it, I’m certain.”

You frown. “And the other parts?”

“I won’t pretend to know his heart. She’s his granddaughter, the only child of his sole heir. Perhaps that holds some sway in his mind. He may be an old man, yearning to touch his legacy before he fades from relevancy. So rarely do our kind have the privilege of meeting our grandchildren.”

“You’re immortal.” Or so you’ve been lead to believe. “Why wouldn’t you all know your grandchildren?”

“In due time, daughter of Mewni. In due time.” If he had hands, he would be waving one dismissively in your direction. How infuriating. “Though I find thinking the best of people is often the best course, I wouldn’t assign any benefit to _that_ man. He may want to be reunited with his family, though I rather doubt it, he may also recognize the leverage Princess Uhlayiss provides.”

“What leverage is that?”

“She’s a secret, Moon.” Glossaryck startles you when he speaks. “If he told her story right, the Monster Nations would listen. Imagine what he could do with that.”

You don’t want to imagine what he could do with that, silent and sickened with new panic as your old mentor continues.

“They’ll see a mistreated child--two mistreated children, if he could bring both of them to the Congress of Septarsis. Being a Mother wouldn’t protect you from legal action, so long as everyone believed you broke the treatise and abused a prisoner--a child, no less. Two children. Toffee was practically a hatchling in polite society, if you trust Erstwhile. The courts wouldn’t find his crimes equal to your own.”

“And she did do that,” Star adds. “Broke the treaty outright, basically.”

“...Don’t be so quick to believe that. Seth could start a war with rumor alone.” Glossaryck reminds her, earning himself a quick glare that he doesn’t respond to at all.

“Is that what he wants?” You ask, interrupting Star before she can speak. Corn forgive your manners, but you would like to get to the bottom of things before Star loses her temper again and the conversation ends.

He shrugs. “Who knows?”

“I might.” Erstwhile shifts uneasily in his jar, as though the conversation causes him physical discomfort. “Princess Uhlayiss aside, Toffee was still his heir.”

“His unwilling heir, if anything he told me was the truth.” Which you aren’t confident of, given everything that man lied to you about. “I offered him a chance to return to Ignia before Star’s birth. He refused.”

“Septarian boys do love their mothers.” As though that explains anything at all.

Star takes a seat at her desk looking as troubled as you feel. You wonder which parts of the conversation trouble her. How much did she know about this? Did Toffee tell her everything? Doubtful, but she knows more than she’s saying. 

“...Then Seth is looking for me, and I shouldn’t let him find me. Is that what you’re saying?”

She looks from Erstwhile to Glossaryck and back, far too serious for her age. Then again, she is wearing a skull that might have belonged to a dragon before and most certainly belonged to Ludo before she killed him today. What would you know about her ordinary emotional range? It’s not as though she’s a normal child, or even a child as you were at her age. How much of that are you responsible for?

“Yes, Your Grace. To put it concisely. I can’t advise you to contact him.”

You sigh. That seems like fairly obvious advice. “He already knows about her. I don’t think he ever believed Toffee was dead.”

“Ah, yes. You’re referring to the letter in your pocket.”

“...There’s a letter?” Star doesn’t sound pleased. “You should have told me. I want to read it.”

“It’s a legal summons.”

“What does that matter? I was raised exclusively by a lawyer, you know, and just because I’ve never been to Septarsis doesn’t mean I don’t know the laws. It will make more sense to me than it does to you. Give it to me.”

What’s the harm? She’ll read it eventually, whether you give it to her or not. It may as well happen now. You look to Erstwhile while she reads.

“You say this starts with a woman named Margrarot. Toffee’s mother is named Miriam.”

“Mother Miriam.” He snaps, the first sign of anger you’ve seen from him, though he does his best to reign it in. “--But she is, yes. I said it started with Margrarot, not that matters ended with her. It isn’t my place to speak about Mother Miriam.”

“And why not?”

Glossaryck sighs. “She’s a saint in Septarsis. It’s disrespectful for him to talk about her to outsiders.”

“I didn’t know Septarians believed in a religion at all.”

“There’s a whole pantheon.” Star grumbles as she sets the letter on the desk. “More than one pantheon. And you’re ignorant.”

Her teacher laughs. “Let’s not judge the queen so harshly, Your Grace. Our gods and martyrs are a private matter.”

“My father didn’t think so.”

“Your father and his father before him are and were godless fiends, and you know that. While your father had reason to doubt, I pray you don’t inherit that fault.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. That’s the one thing he did wrong.”

“He made many mistakes, but I don’t enjoy living in your desk cupboard.”

“Good call, drop it, and my dad’s beliefs aren’t the danger here. Seth knows I exist. How does he know that?”

If the creature had shoulders, he would shrug them. “I don’t know, Your Grace, but it’s only matter of time before he finds you here.”

“Then I can’t stay on Earth?”

At least her scathing disbelief isn’t reserved for you alone. Her eyes narrowed to slits, she tilts her head at just the right angle on her slightly-too-long neck to remind you she isn’t a recolored mewman. Right. 

“It’s dangerous to remain in any one place for too long.” Glossaryck agrees, leaning back in midair over the letter in her hands. “Earth isn’t any different than anywhere else. It could be a place to hide.”

“Well, good. I’m not leaving Earth.” She turns to you. “So jot that down.”

Your stomach sinks. This is what you were afraid of. While Erstwhile is being...quite frankly more helpful than you expected, you can’t see a reason why he would want Star to go back to Mewni. It’s Glossaryck’s insight that leaves you feeling betrayed. Doesn’t he see that the castle is the best place for her right now, if not the safest place in all the dimensions?

If Glossaryck notices your offense, he pays it no mind. “Mrs. Diaz took up sword-fighting recently. It’s a pity your father’s gun was lost.”

“Between that and Marco’s karate, my magic, and the scissors, I think I’ll be fine here. There’s a mirror if something happens. More importantly, I can cut a portal to somewhere else whenever I want.”

“Seth has scissors too.” You point out, knowing her answer to that already. Star shoots you a glare as she sits back in her desk chair, arms crossed, reminding you painfully of someone else you knew.

River might have been right. You can’t be objective with her--and as much as it pains you to think of, Hekapoo was right as well. How did you imagine she would turn out, when the only person she knew for thirteen years was Toffee? The short answer to that question is that you didn’t think about it, if you could help it, and when you did you imagined that the Butterfly half of her might outweigh some of her father’s disrespectful, unapologetically narcissistic tendencies.

She isn’t her father, but after years of contact with him and only him, she’s the next best example. Even her body language is his, you think, as she looks down her nose at you from behind her desk. 

“He’s hardly going to come after me himself. The letter says he might come to the castle, not that he’s going to storm the Earth dimension looking for me. We don’t even know that he knows I’m here. In case you haven’t notices, which you might not have, Earth’s pretty fucking big.”

“I understand that. You don’t need to be profane.”

“Whoops. Did I say pretty fucking big? I meant it’s a whole fucking assload of dimension he’ll have to search before he even knows where America is. He couldn’t find his own tail on a world map of this place.”

You cringe. “...You’ve made your point. Was that truly necessary?”

“Yes. Absolutely. If swear words make you uncomfortable, then you can leave.” Star switches her attention from you to Erstwhile, holding up the letter for him to see. “Is this really the King’s handwriting and signature?”

“Yes.”

“And you, Moon.” Nevermind your title, you’re shocked by how contemptuously she says your name. As though it tastes badly on her lips and she can’t wait to be done with it. No one speaks to you this way. Only her father. “He’s been sending these letters since before I was born. Did my dad know?”

“...Yes, to a point. The letters have been identical in all but date for fourteen year before this, only this letter varies. He read the first two letters himself, and advised me not to respond.”

“And you listened?”

“Well, of course.” Bristling a bit, you force yourself to relax. There’s no need to be defensive. “I didn’t want Seth meddling in my court any more than Toffee wanted to be returned to him, though I had no idea Toffee was his son before now.”

“Well, he isn’t Seth’s son, you know. Legally. So it’s not a lie.”

“I see.” You most emphatically do not see. “He is...adopted, then? Not by blood relation?”

“...No. By blood relation,” Star hesitates before continuing, as though she’s unsure this is something she should be telling you. “They’re technically related, but blood doesn’t equal parental rights.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s like...ugh, look, I don’t know all the laws. My dad never said if he was his father, or they happened to share genetics.”

“...Making Seth his father, I assume?”

“No. Maybe? It’s complicated. The bottom line is that my dad didn’t know which one Seth is.”

“He...didn’t know?”

“Well, no. He didn’t even know he had parents at all until Seth found him.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I still don’t follow. Surely he knew he had parents before, yes? People don’t simply pop out of the ground like weeds.”

“It’s...complicated, okay? And it’s really personal. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t need to know these things, Star. It’s a lot to take in, a great deal of information I don’t understand. He never spoke to me about any of this, though that’s hardly surprising--I simply need time. Do you intend to stay on Earth?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will talk about this again, at a later date. For now, legality isn’t the concern. So long as one of your parents remains, Seth has no legal claim to you, correct?”

“...No, not correct. I only have one parent, he’s…” Her voice catches. “Gone. I had one parent. Legally. My dad’s husband would have next custody of me, but he died a long time ago. If Seth is who he says he is, then I would go to him.”

“Your father’s...husband?” You repeat, unsure you heard her right.

Star nods distractedly. “Since you gave me up, he would have parental rights.”

It feels as though someone has reached into your chest, taken hold of your heart, and started to squeeze. Damn it, Moon, you’re meant to be above this! It was years ago, you haven’t so much as seen Toffee in the thirteen years before Star’s magic manifested. This information shouldn’t bother you in the slightest, but there’s an inkling of something in the back of your mind. A warning bell. To say nothing of hearing your (estranged) daughter talk about how you gave her up.

“Toffee was married?” You repeat, half-listless. Focus on the topic at hand, Moon, mourn your feelings later. 

“Yeah. He died in the war. I never got to meet him. There was a...well, a couple of pictures of them in a bar they used to go to. I took one.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was Crocirian. I could just show you the picture.” She produces a worn little square from her pocket, holding it very carefully.

It takes you a moment to recognize Toffee, different as he looks. It’s much easier for you to recognize the man beside him. You know his face, his crocodile-esque face and curious frills, because you’ve seen him before. This was the soldier who stood by his injured commander. He was the only man in Toffee’s army to stand and face you. 

Only he stayed, and only he surrendered to remain with his general--loyalty you couldn’t understand without this new context. It wasn’t loyalty to his country that motivated him, but loyalty to his _husband_. Your stomach lurches a little at the last memory you have of him, his bloody remains being dragged from the dungeon.

You killed this man.

“Oh.” You whisper, staring down at the long-dead man’s smiling face. They look so...happy. “I see.”

“Our people mate for life. My dad was never the same once he was gone, and he told me so.” 

“...I see that he’s a different race than you and your father are. Is that common?”

“I don’t know. Crocirians are kind of the rednecks of Septarsis, though. My dad said--well, he implied that it was hard sometimes, but I don’t think he minded. Nobody chooses their mate. Even the most stubborn, stuck-up nobles know that. He said they were happy. That’s all. He didn’t talk about him very much since, you know...”

“I see.” And for the first time in fifteen years, you’re starting to. “This has been very, ah, interesting, Star. Thank you.”

“Good.” It would seem your time is up. Star’s run out of patience for you being in her space. “You can show your appreciation by going away.”

Right. Of course. She looks up at you with a very particular bored, expectant look that turns your stomach with its familiarity.

“...I will.” Without thinking about it, you open a portal directly beside you. “Thank you, for your cooperation.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She snaps.

 

\----------

 

Be Hekapoo.

So this whole thing is done to death, right? You’re so tired of hearing about it. 

Mortals are so...messy. Eurgh. You don’t want to hear one more word about Moon making big, stupid mistakes because she was thinking with her vagina instead of her brain. It’s an old, tired mortal story. Mortal enemies turn to star-crossed lovers, blah blah, impractical happy ending. It’s happened in your own dimension a time or two with mixed results. None were as messy as this particular affair.

But you could have saved Moon a lot of trouble if you stepped in harder. One of your clones was supposed to be advising her, and that clone just so happened to be won over by the Immortal Monster’s charms as handily as Moon herself was. Ridiculous! She promised to ~keep their love a secret~ until things went south, and that damn lizard blew out her flame. 

It’s all so irritating and done to death. If only your dimension weren’t so heavily time-dilated. Maybe you could just get on with your life, and never have to think about Moon or her half-monster kid she let out in public. Come on! Instead of doing your very important work in your own dimension, you’re called to sit through another meeting about this. 

Here’s what you think should be done. Get rid of the little sunspot and find a perfectly nice, polite, malleable Mewman girl to take her place. Stage a public accident, pretend the Queen is pregnant, introduce a new princess. It’s not that difficult, people! And it’s not like you haven’t done something like that before.

But no, the Immortal Monster just had to raise a scrappy, mildly entertaining kid. She’s not half bad, if Moon wasn’t such a tight-ass. Anyway, you’d like the current princess a lot more if she wasn’t the subject of more than one full-Commission meeting. Her threat to run around Mewni airing the political equivalent of Moon’s dirty panties? Priceless. Effective. Evocative, even, it’s so artfully ironic. That's not even mentioning her new habit of collecting dimensional scissors like a bored, rich human collects cars.

So much for the story of a princess learning she’s a princess and being blinded by privilege and all the good things that will happen to her. Cinderella, who? _This_ princess has steel balls and prefers to be called a general, thank you very much, and nevermind princesses having an ancient and well-documented place as diplomatic canon fodder. It happened to Moon. The irony cherry on the cake is that Star, the product of an old trope gone wrong, is way too smart to get in bed with the enemy. At least someone is learning from mistakes around here.

To top off that cherry with a thick whipped-cream topping (ha, that sounds dirty), the girl isn’t even Mewni’s biggest threat. Not only did Moon get in bed with the enemy. Oh no. She went ahead and got in bed with King Seth’s son.

On second thought, you like the princess just fine. This is the entire issue. Clear your schedule, Hekapoo, because you’re not getting anything done in the next millennia or so. Seth is what you in the business of dimensional politics call ‘BFN’ or ‘bad fucking news.’ Okay, it’s not a business term. You’re the only one who uses it. You’re still right.

“I don’t like this.” Omni mutters. “Moon and Glossaryck should be here.”

You roll your eyes. Geez, it’s a nervous crowd you run with. “Glossy is always late.” 

“I know. Moon, however, is never late. It’s something I like about her.”

“She told me to go ahead. Unless the princess killed her, she’ll be here when she has her back in Mewni.”

“...You don’t think Princess Star would do that, do you?”

“Stupid lizard princess.” Rhombulus grumbles. “Stupid Immortal Monster. Stupid Glossaryck.”

That gets him an eye roll too. “Don’t hold back, big guy. Tell us how you really feel.”

“I hate waiting. Stupid waiting.”

“Someone’s nervous.”

“Am not!”

Lekmet bleats at him plaintively. 

“No, it’s not--I don’t want to talk about it.” He folds his arms over his head like a toddler blocking out something he doesn’t want to hear. “Stupid meeting.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be outside and freezing evil-doers in no time. It’s not like this is a big, big deal.”

It’s no Festiva-level cover-up, anyways. Yet. It’s not too late.

“It is too late, actually.”

All four of your jump a little in your chairs or, in Omni’s case, in his orb. Glossaryck is perched casually on the end of the table, legs crossed and eating a small bowl of human ramen. Where did he even get that?!

“...To late for what?” Omni tries.

Instead of answering him, Glossaryck takes a long _slurp_ of noodles before fixing you with an unreadable look. Don’t take that too seriously, though. All his looks are unreadable. 

“Seth knows who Star is. It’s much too late to do away with her, Hekapoo, as you know. Mewni and Septarsis are already on thin ice. Besides--she said she likes me. That’s what I care about.”

“All Septarians are good at flattery. They take away your license if you aren’t.” You joke. “Don’t tell me you trust her?”

“Oh, you know.” Which you don’t. He doesn’t look like he’s in an explaining mood, taking another obscenely gross slurp of his awful, wet food. 

“...If you like the princess, then why are we here?”

“Reasons. What do you all know about Septarian brooding traditions?”

If Omni’s hands fit in his viewing orb, he would probably be scratching his head as he speaks. “Like...brooding? I think all their leaders have a dark and brooding aesthetic.”

“I don’t think that’s what he means.”

“....They have the Mothers, who lay clutches of eggs, with magic.” Rhombulus mumbles out the first right answer you’ve ever heard him give. Everyone at the table looks at him, prompting him to cover his crystal face again. “Don’t put me in time-out.”

“I won’t.” Glossaryck...smiles. “You’re right.”

“The broodmothers have a lot of magic power.” You add. Like hell is that idiot showing you up in front of your creator. “Septarians can’t make more children without magic.”

“Correct. What else?”

“They keep records of their children?” Omni throws that out there, nowhere near as confident as you were. “And they aren’t actually related to every child they have. They aren’t allowed to marry, or raise children that aren’t future broodmothers.”

“That’s also correct. Bonus round: how many times has someone who isn’t a broodmother carried the Uhlayiss name?”

Silence, but you realize the error right away. Shit. If Miriam can’t have children of her own, she’s not the Immortal Monster’s real mother. Is Seth married? You have no damn idea. This is probably something you should have set a clone to figure out. It should have sparked your interest at the time, but your dreams were less focused on the boy’s resemblance to his mother and more on the insides you made into outsides. Shit. Fuck. Let’s not think about that right now. What if he isn’t really her son, but a ward she took from the king?

“Incorrect!” Glossaryck brandishes his tiny chopsticks at you as he starts marching up and down the length of the meeting table. “WRONG! Miriam Uhlayiss is Toffee’s mother, resemblance aside. He's the only man in his entire family history. What has the Dread-Mother done?”

“She broke the law?” Omni guesses.

“Partial credit.”

“She stole someone’s baby with magic?” Rhombulus suggests.

“WRONG!”

“Baaaah.” Lekmet chimes.

“Intriguing thought. We’ll talk about that later. Any other guesses?”

“She actually hatched him, he’s her blood, and he’s magic.” You whisper. Shit. 

“LouDER!”

“He’s her son and he’s magic!”

“CORRECT!” Glossaryck comes to a full stop in front of you. “But he doesn’t use magic.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t cast. Maybe he can’t cast, because Moon broke him.”

“That’s a theory. And whyyyy does it matter?”

You think for a moment before answering, feeling all eyes in the room on you. “...He isn’t supposed to be magic, and Seth can use him.”

“CORRECT AGAIN! Ahem. Now, we know that the Dreadmother is Toffee’s mommy, Seth is his daddy, and he hasn’t seen dear mommy since he was a toddler. What we don’t know--”

Moon chooses the moment Glossaryck is getting to his point to burst into the room, more in disarray than you’ve ever seen her before. Her makeup is ever so slightly streaking around her eyes, hair deflating and her skirts ruffled, but she looks unhurt. It wasn’t battle, then. You hope she has another excuse for making everyone wait for the meeting.

“I’m terribly sorry.” She bustles to her seat at the table. “I’ve just learned that Toffee was married.”

Oh, someone help you. It’s taking all your willpower and then some not to laugh.

“Oh, word.” Don’t laugh, Hekapoo, don’t. This is ridiculous! Soap opera who? Don’t even need them anymore, with this kind of drama. “Baby daddy was using you as a side hoe?”

Rhombulus kicks you under the table. Not hard, but ugh. Moon looks like you slapped her.

“...Sorry, that was too harsh. It’s been a long day. I’m sorry.” No, you’re not, but she needs to stop looking at you like that. Damn it, Moon. “He was married?”

“Yes, to the man that you,” She looks to Lekmet. “Took the body of. The Crocirian soldier that you...dealt with, old friend. Do you remember him?”

He frowns. “Baaaah.”

“He says he does.” Rhombulus translates. “Wait. The Immortal Monster, the most evil man in Mewni, was _married_?”

“Yes. I don’t think his personal attack on me had anything to do with Seth or his country. I think he was trying to get revenge. It might not have anything to do with his father at all.”

“It would be weird if it did.” Glossaryck agrees. “Because Toffee and his mother were crown-sanctioned refugees from Septarsis. He didn't meet Seth until he was a married grown-up.”

Moon hesitates for a split second. “...Under what crown were they taken in, if I may ask, and in what record?”

“There’s no record. The Dreadmother Miriam Farah Uhlayiss and her son were pardoned during the reign of Queen Eclipsa. Who would like to explain why she’s crystalized to Moon?”

“Baaah!”

“Anyone but Lekmet.”

“I will.” You raise one hand like a human child in preschool. Glossaryck always does this to you. Who else is going to explain it though, Rhombulus? Omni wasn’t there. He only knows what he saw from his dimension.

“Hekapoo. Go.”

“Miriam appeared out of nowhere in Eclipsa’s court, after she abandoned the kingdom to be with the monster. There were a lot of different stories about where she came from. Some people thought she was a spy, some said she was meant to be a nanny if the couple had any kids, and a couple of people thought she was a mistress. No one actually knew, including us, which was--”

“The cliff notes, Hekapoo!” He waves his chopsticks at you like a tiny, mad conductor.

“--Basically she sacrificed herself the first time we tried to bring Eclipsa to justice, wouldn’t tell us anything about where she went, and now she’s frozen.”

Moon frowns. “She let herself and her son be captured?”

“Well...no.” You admit. This is the part that turns your stomach. “She sent her son with Eclipsa. We think she sent him back, and they were trying to set her up to betray them so they could get rid of her.”

“...Did she betray them?”

“No. We didn’t get to ask a lot of questions. She’s ancient; instant healing, invulnerable, the whole shebang. So I grabbed the kid to get answers. We had to freeze after I...it was an accident.” And suddenly, you don’t feel like laughing anymore at all. You lower your voice like that will take away the impact of your words. “I overestimated how tough the kid would be. So Rhom and I chalked it up to a loss, and moved her to the crystal prison. She’s been there ever since.”

She looks shocked, to say the least. “You tortured her child, in front of her.”

“You already knew I did that.”

“I...assumed Miriam was evil. Was she?”

You sit back in your seat. “Rhom?”

“She was evil! I felt it in my guts.”

“She was a weapon of mass destruction.” You add. “A normal Septarian is dangerous, but an angry broodmother is deadly.”

“You killed her child in front of her! Of course she was dangerous. You’re telling me that you murdered her child and, unable to get information from her after that, proceeded to imprison her for the next three centuries?!”

Rhombulus shifts uncomfortably in his seat as you try to think of something to say in your own defense. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“There isn’t a better way to say it!” Moon looks absolutely horrified. “Did Toffee know this? Any of this?”

“...We don’t know.” You admit, very quietly.

“Do any of you know why Mother Miriam left Septarsis?”

Everyone at the table shakes their heads. Glossaryck doesn’t bother to respond at all.

“Unbelievable.” She snaps. “Has anyone since questioned her?”

“Rhombulus...tried.”

“And?” Moon turns her eyes to him, making him shrink in his chair.

“...She didn’t want to talk.” He mumbles. “She wanted to eat me.”

“Oh, what a shock! I’m sure everyone is very surprised to hear that. This doesn’t bother any of you, then? This doesn’t seem cruel, unusual, or unfair to anyone here?”

Not even you speak up in your own defense. Sure, you were going to--but you remember that night like it was yesterday instead of a million years ago. You didn’t mean to kill him, it shouldn’t have killed him. Didn’t kill him. Fuck. It wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t what you wanted. If he’d just held still, if the Dreadmother wasn’t screeching and flailing so much, if Rhombulus wasn’t hovering over you--

“I should have been told.”

“We didn’t know who Toffee was, Moon.” Omni looks like he wants to reach out to the angry queen. It’s probably best that he does the talking, since he wasn’t there. He can judge you, too. Not that he will. “If we knew, we would have done something.”

“What would you have done, killed him? Imprisoned him with his mother? Or perhaps you wanted to try and kill him again? No, don’t answer that. Glossaryck.” She turns on him, no less furious. “I don’t believe you were ignorant of this.”

He shrugs.

“You were with Eclipsa! Surely you know what the Dreadmother was doing in her court.”

“Nope. I met her only once. Interesting woman, Miriam Uhlayiss. She smoked the biggest pipe I’ve ever seen, and hated to wear shirts.”

“...Did you meet Toffee then, as well?”

“I have the vague memory of a very, very naked hatchling flashing diplomats while he avoided bathtime. Whether that child was Toffee or not, I couldn’t say. I have a lot of things to do, Moon.”

“Oh. Forgive me, I,” She slumps a bit in her chair, probably tired from flipping the fuck out at you all. “Then we know nothing of the Mother’s intentions, or Toffee’s true parentage, and I have to grapple with the reality of what you’ve done.”

Well, that’s one way to make your ichor boil. “What we’ve done?! We’ve done our jobs!”

“Oh, of course! Silly me,” Moon’s tone veers towards scathing sarcasm, only making you more angry. “But I didn’t realize mortally wounding and effectively _orphaning_ innocent children fell within your job description! I suppose you forgot to mention that to me when I joined the Commission--don’t worry, though, I seem to have done a _fantastic_ job of it all on my own!”

“Don’t be stupid! Just because something happened to him as a kid doesn’t mean he gets to do whatever he wants!”

“No, but it drastically changes my response to what he did! Of _course_ he wanted to destroy the Butterfly family, if he remembers the High Commission trying to murder him and stealing his mother: who, as far as I know, hasn’t done anything wrong! None of you thought to tell me about this?”

“We didn’t know he was the same kid!”

“I should have been told about the Dreadmother much sooner!”

Your flame flares, lighting some of your hair on fire as well. “You would have been told much sooner, if you told us about Seth’s letters!”

“Well, forgive me if I’m unapologetic! I didn’t trust you to handle it discreetly, and Toffee warned me that it wouldn’t go over well--thank corn I didn’t! You might have killed him on the spot, and there would have been no justice for what you’ve done!”

“Justice?! What does that even mean?!”

“It means that you shouldn’t go unpunished, and I would like to speak with Miriam Uhlayiss!”

“Guys.” Rhombulus cuts in, so nervous you can barely hear him over the roar of ichor in your ears. “Uh, Queen Moon, Your Majesty, you can’t talk to her.”

She draws herself up in her seat. “And why not?”

“She doesn't want to talk. She wants to kill us. We, uh, tried, but she’s…crazy now.” He shifts unhappily in his chair. “You can’t just ask her stuff. Last time me and Lekmet tried to unfreeze her a little to talk, she broke the rest of the crystal and attacked us.

“...I see. And did she say anything, before she attacked?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just screamed.”

“So you’re telling me that Toffee was the only person alive to know the answers we need right now, to make an informed decision about Seth and his intentions. Is that what I’m understanding?”

“Not necessarily.” Glossaryck pops into existence at the head of the table, startling Moon as he smiles, smug and too-wide for his little face. “You could ask Rasticore about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the comments/kudos that gave me the strength to finish this chapter. I have one brain cell and it's loudly quoting vines 24/7. Love you all though <3 keep being fresh


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two different field trips ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have gotta stop with the 6.5k chapters here, huh. This monster is 18 pages in the google doc. It's wild.

Be Marco, excited for Star’s first field trip.

Full disclosure, you warn Star it’s going to be a boring day, aside from the milestone of being her first field trip ever. Ms. Skullnick (who is still a troll, and won’t let Star cast on her again to fix that) is known for being the grouchiest and least understanding of any teacher. Her class is boring, this will be too. Not to mention how much she hates Star for turning her into a troll in the first place.

You still think your teacher’s being a little short-sighted about it. It's been months, and Star has learned a lot about magic since the accident. Not that you’re sure Star would actually change her back. Trolls are badass and she should be happy about it, though she won't say that to her face. Sure she’ll get into it with the Queen of Mewni and anyone on the Magical High Commission, a group of real gods, but a teacher? No way. She was raised better than that.

(Don’t think about that too much. Star getting raised, you mean, by her dad who isn’t here. Everything that happened is basically your fault, Star should hate, you, and don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it--)

“This is still a little bit exciting.” Star interrupts your spiraling panic. Riding the bus is one of those things you never thought about before, but she really likes. No one stops her from opening the window and enjoying the fresh air, and she’s still too short to crowd you out of the seat when she tucks her legs to her chest with her tail around them. Star, the little sushi roll. Adorable. “It’s still something new.”

“It’s a paperclip museum.”

“I think it’s kind of cool. Who are you texting?”

“Uh...no one.” Useless lie, she’s already guessed who and you know it. “What do you think of this meme?”

There’s a kitten in a tiny pilot hat. _‘Fasten your seatbelts,’_ it reads. _‘That cloud looks like a ball of yarn.’_ You may or may not have spent the last ten minutes of quiet bus ride googling cat memes and trying to pick a good one to launch first. If you’re going to send this to Jackie Lynn Thomas, the best of the best when it comes to meme-ing, this meme has to be perfect. 

“I have to get a phone, just so I can save that picture. He’s so cute.” Star traces the cat’s face with a painted-pink clawtip. “Unbelievably cute. Why?”

“Okay good. I wanted your opinion before I, uh, sent it to--well I hope Jackie likes it as much as you do.”

“Ooh, a conversation starter?”

“Shh! She’s like three seats away, and the bus isn’t loud. We’re keeping a low profile.” It takes a second to still your pounding heart. You risk a look in Jackie’s direction and she she’s (thankfully) still focused on her phone. “No, not a conversation starter, it’s just casual interaction. Remember how we were reading about exposure therapy, and starting small?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s for nasty things like phobias, and major trauma. What does it have to do with talking to Jackie? She’s super nice.”

“Super nice, but I get paralysed every time I look at her. That’s...not a great look. So we’re starting small, keeping things super casual here. Letting the memes do the talking.”

Star’s making a face like she’s trying to imagine talking to Oskar with exclusively memes. From her expression, you can guess she thinks the idea is wild. It’s too bad Oskar isn’t in the class and couldn’t come on the field trip too, but he’s a junior (in algebra two, if he ever went to class, you had no idea he made it to higher math at all) and Ms. Skullnick laughed at Star until she walked away when she asked if Oskar could come too. 

You’ll say this about Star, she’s optimistic. Stubbornly optimistic. Sometimes you wonder if she’s actually oblivious, or she’s counting on teachers giving in to her because she’s cute and probably doesn’t know how things work.

“That could get kind of boring really fast.” She’s tapping her chin thoughtfully, tail twitching in a way that reminds you of someone tapping their fingers. “...Besides, isn’t talking kind of the whole point of dating someone? Being able to talk to them, I mean. Maybe you should just talk to her. She likes lots of stuff you like. Like that band, what was it? Love Sentence!”

“Shhhhhhh oh my god, someone’s going to hear you.” You’re ducked down under the back of your seat like that will make you invisible to anyone who heard what she just said. Please, please don’t let anyone hear her say that. “I can’t tell her I like Love Sentence. That’s a girl-band! She’ll never take me seriously.”

“Uh, Marco? She likes them too.”

“Huh?”

Star shrugs. “She wore a concert tee the other day.”

“...Okay, yeah,” That’s true. “But she’s a girl. That’s fine for her.”

“I don’t think music cares about your junk when you listen to it, but okay. You could talk to her about something else, right? What else does she like?”

“Skateboarding, music, cartoons, movie stunts...but I don’t know anything about that stuff.”

“You could always talk to a different girl to get used to the idea of talking to her.”

“Gee, sure, great idea. Know where I could find one?”

“Well, there’s--”

“That was a joke. I’m talking to a girl right now, Star, you’re a girl.”

“Oh, right.”

“Anyway, talking to girls isn’t the problem. I’m just scared of talking to her.”

“Well...you could still practice with other girls you know. I totally don’t count. We could ask Sabrina, she’s pretty nice. And Thirteen would totally help you practice if you asked.”

You look reflexively to the back of the bus, meet Thirteen’s eyes, and look away again really fast. What’s she even doing? She’s got that giant heart cut-out she’s been carrying around lately. She holds it up when you look again with a smile and wink. Cool. That’s not creepy.

“She thinks I have a crush on you.” You remind her, scrunching down further in your seat so Thirteen can’t see you anymore.

“That’s weird. She mentioned that the other day, actually, but Oskar and I were kind of busy…”

Oskar’s been teaching her how to play the keytar. If you can call what he does ‘playing’ it. You’d call it something more like ‘gleefully murdering a keytar and the ears of every bystander’. At least they’re having fun?

Star told you a week ago that Thirteen came up to the car after school, and how she felt really bad brushing her off because she was in the zone. Especially since Thirteen was the only one not laying on the ground in agony from her ‘sweet chords.’ Oskar brags on his twitter about how fast she’s learning. Yikes. That’s still not as cringey as Thirteen interrupting their hang-out/date to say she thinks Star should date someone else.

“You two could deafen the whole school with one amp.” You hope you never see the day. “That keytar is definitely cursed.”

“Sure, cursed with fun. Why do you hate fun, Marco?”

“Needing hearing aids at fifteen isn’t fun, my dude.”

“You’re being dramatic. Talking to Jackie won’t make you need hearing aids, though.” She grins teasingly. “Her voice is so pretty, and so soft…”

You gulp. “Nope, too risky, I might slip up, say something embarrassing. Again. No offense, but I think I’ll stick to memes for now.”

“Boo. Boring.” But she still peeks over the seat to watch Jackie grin at her phone. 

“Star!” You shove her shoulder too hard, almost too loud, jabbing your phone at excitedly. “Look! She sent me a _‘LOL!’_ We’re communicating, and I’m not dead of embarrassment!”

“Uh-huh.” For someone witnessing such an impressive achievement, Star doesn’t look impressed. “Step two: text her with words. You could make a joke about the bus driver probably being a cat. We keep leaving the pavement on speed-bumps. Maybe someone’s got a laser pointer.”

You snort. Okay, that’s pretty good. Still not going to do it, though. But you’ll ask Star for help before you text her a not-meme.

“You can’t send memes forever,” Star says, looking back out the window.

“Watch me.”

“Of course I’ll watch you. I can’t look away from this trainwreck and you know it. At least try and get her to send memes back? That’s how that works, right? Oskar and I do that sometimes on the computer.”

“Yeah, we get it Uhlayiss, you’ve got a boyfriend.” 

She giggles at your mock-pained grimace. “It’s better than being a prominent community member in singlesville, Mayor Diaz.”

“That’s cold. What happened to using your wits and talents for good?”

“Helping you get it together is good. Maybe if I tease you a little more you’ll get a little less serious. Just text her, Marco.”

“I am!” And you will. Just...with memes, for now. It’s for the best.

Later, when calamity strikes this field trip in the form of Ferguson and Alfonzo making some really bad choices, you wonder if you should have taken Star’s advice before all hell broke loose. So much for a nice, boring day.

It continues on pretty boring for the next...oh, hour or so? It’s about an hour. There’s another thirty minutes of bus-ride alone. It’s half past eight when the bus actually gets to the museum, and another ten minutes of Ms. Skullnick waiting in line to buy the tickets. There’s actually a line. Why is there a line? This is a paperclip museum!

Your class waits around the benches outside. Like most groups of high schoolers, it’s less of a line and more like the scatter plot. You and Star took one of the benches with Ferguson and Alfonzo hovering in your orbit and Thirteen sitting at Star’s feet like the world’s weirdest dogs. Janna, Hope, and Chelsea aren’t that far, with Justin and Sabrina lowkey flirting on the next bench. 

Jackie is skateboarding back and forth while Blake and Francis talk about...something? She says something you can’t catch to both of them and they all laugh. That’s Jackie. She’s just so...perfect. Are you staring? You’re staring. Stop that.

“I can’t believe we’re going to a paperclip museum.” Ferguson groans. “I can’t believe anyone would even make a paperclip museum. Why are we here?”

“We all know Skullnick hates her job. Don’t complain, or she’ll make us do math instead of being bored.”

“Have you ever been so bored you wanted to do algebra, Marco? I would rather do--”

You smack a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that. She’ll make us do algebra for the next seven hours. We won’t have anywhere to go, there will be no other periods to escape to--just math. Don’t you say it.”

“I’d rather do algebra.” He says, the second you let go of his face. Right as the teacher can hear him.

Ms. Skullnick is smirking. “Did someone say algebra? Would we rather do worksheets? I do have several--”

The whole class groans.

Despite her threats, she herds you all into the museum after all. It’s brave of her not to bring more chapterones. Sure, it’s a small class in the most boring museum known to mankind, but there’s still thirteen teenagers here. Not to mention that Star is one of them. You would definitely get a TA for the day. 

Speaking of Star, she’s already slid up to the closest display. “What is this?”

“It’s...a paperclip. You’ve used a paperclip before.”

“Nope. I just staple my papers, or put them in a folder. Or a binder. I’ve heard of this item.” She lets one hand hover over the glass. “But I’ve never seen one in the wild. Why do people use these?”

“Because sometimes you want to group a bunch of papers together for a short time, and don’t want to permanently staple them or buy a folder, I guess.”

“Huh. Does it unbend?”

“Yeah. You can use it to get the SD card out of an iPhone, if you have a small one. Earrings work better.”

“It must have a storied and fascinating history, for there to be a museum erected in its honor.” She leans in closer, staring intently at the little metal paperclip. “Tell me your secrets, tiny human innovation.”

“Uh-huh. Keep up that enthusiasm, Starburst. At least I have my phone.”

Ms. Skullnick snatches your phone out of your hand in the same second. “No distractions, Mr. Diaz!”

You gulp. Yikes. On second thought, she was better as not-a-troll Ms. Skullnick. This is terrifying. Maybe her refusing to get another chaperone is related to her terrifying new face. None of the kids in your class (or any class) talk back to her anymore. Normally you’d be a little offended that a teacher took your phone (since you aren’t being disruptive) but it’s fine. She can keep it. Yikes.

“For the rest of you, NO FUNNY BUSINESS!”

At least she doesn’t yell at you. Star also avoids the sound waves from your teacher’s megaphone--not that it would bother her, since she pretty much makes loud noise for fun. She gets a very particular look from Ms. Skullnick.

“No shenanigans, Star.”

“Yes, ma’am. No shenanigans, heists, or chicanery.”

She snorts. “Glad we understand each other, kid.”

Star sticks her tongue out as soon as Ms. Skullnick turns her back. “Rude. I’m not even a troublemaker.”

“You turned her into a troll.” You point out.

“That was months ago, and I offered to fix it. I’m a model student otherwise.”

“Pretty big mess-up, though.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Janna.” She goes skipping off in the other girl’s direction. “I have some questions about the implications this museum projects on human senses of worth and priority!”

“Fuck girl, me too. Holy mother of fund-wasting and blatant lack of regard for resources. There are so many unbuilt museums that could offer so much more to this community, but Big Paperclip stepped in and--”

So it’s going to be one of those days. You groan as the girls link hands and continue...whatever that discussion is. It’s hard to even think of it, but if your next eight hours in this museum are going to be reading boring displays and listening to these two practicing for a philosophy degree, you might actually... prefer... math class.

Nope, you can’t say that sincerely, even in your own head.

The next hour is so unbelievably boring. Everyone thinks so. All around you are glazed eyes and tired faces, chatter dying down as you all come to terms with the soul-crushing boredom. Star and Janna have gained Jackie as a plus-one to their debate (aaaaaaaaa) and you’re left with a choice of either listening to them/trying not to embarrass yourself, or falling to the back of the group with Ferguson, Alfonze, and Francis.

Wait, where are Ferguson and Alfonzo? You look to the back of the group and notice that a couple students are missing. Most of the guys in your class aren’t here. How did you not notice that before?! Oh, god, you’re a terrible friend.

Wait! There they are, a few exhibits back, all crowded around something. Isn’t that the painting of Echo Creek’s first paperclip factory? Not interesting, but you guess comparatively...no. Something’s going on. They’re all crowded around something in front of the display. You can see, even ten feet away, the faintest blue light seeping out from the circle of teenagers.

“Hey, Star?” You turn back to her and see she’s already looking at the little group too. “Whoa. Hey. What are they doing?”

“I think I feel a portal. But that’s--oh, no.” She shoves a hand in her pocket and draws out one pair of scissors, Ludo’s bone-handled skull motif catching the light before she shoves the rest of her arm into the skirt pocket. “Oh no, oh fuck, that’s--FERGUSON!”

Ms. Skullnick turns around to tell her to quiet down, but Star is already marching over to the group with her hands on her hips. The little splinter group parts to show you and the rest of the class a swirling blue portal where the painting used to be. Justin and Francis both split off the second they see how furious Star is. Now it’s just Alfonzo and Blake staring at her like deer in the headlights, and your friend with his back to her while he stares up at his creation in wonder.

“Ferguson O’durguson! You give me those scissors back _right now._ ”

“Oh hey, Star.” Ferguson looks up from the sleek silver scissors in his pudgy hand. He’s backlit by the portal he just made, completely ignoring Star’s demand and totally unaware of how much danger he’s in right now. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere fun.”

This isn’t going to end well.

 

\----------

 

Be Rhombulus.

This is such a bad, bad idea that calling it a bad, bad, bad idea isn’t enough. Nope! Not even close. This is the worst idea anyone has had since Bobibsa ate her first baby. Bad, bad, bad, bad idea, worst idea, cursed idea. Evil idea?

Stop it, okay, stop. You’re panicking. Queen Moon doesn’t have cursed or evil ideas. That’s what makes you agree to let this happen in the first place; somehow she asked in just the right way to get past your door, down the stairs, down more stairs until you’re standing at the end of a long hallway leading to one of your most dangerous prisoners ever.

“I will speak with Mother Miriam Uhlayiss.”

Simple words don’t seem so simple with her. She has this way of saying things just nicely enough not to be rude, just serious enough that you can’t say no. And she looks so pretty today....this is why you should have gotten Lekmet when she arrived.

It starts out alright. You like to see her! She’s a very nice, very smart Queen, and you like to see her. She just wants to see where the Evil Queen is kept. Not to talk to her, she’s very specific. She only wants to see. When everything is normal and you’re feeling good, blushing from her compliments on how you do your job (she’s the only one with an respect for what you do, really, people are usually pretty rude) she drops her second request. 

She wants to speak to the Dreadmother.

For a minute you don’t really answer. Both your hands tell her no, but you crystallize them before they can argue too much. Who needs this from those guys? Lazy buttheads. You’re in charge around here. As long as Lekmet is asleep. Yeah! You’re (conditionally) in charge.

Both your hands made excuses, tried to distract her, but you tell her the truth. “She doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Queen Moon won’t be nearly as nice, serious, or pretty if the Dreadmother bites her whole head off, though, so you told her you can’t leave her alone the way you left her alone with Queen Eclipsa so many years ago. The Queen is...a nice lady. Maybe it’s not even her fault she’s evil. Personally, you think it was her husband that made your guts squirm the way they do around evil people. But the Dreadmother makes your stomach do flips in your guts, and just looking at her makes your throat so tight you have a hard time getting anything out.

“Have you tried, then?” Queen Moon asks.

“No one has talked to her in a hundred years, Queen Moon.” You and Lekmet only ever tried once. The old goat wanted to ask her a question about her magic. 

“Oh?” She gives you a quick, but serious look. “I see you’ve recovered.”

“Well…I did get better.” It still hurt.

“Honestly, Rhombulus. I thought punishing evil-doers was your purpose. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of her.”

Okay. You won’t tell her.

“...I seem to recall just as dire a warning before I spoke with Queen Eclipsa.” Moon continues. “She was quite pleasant, all things considered. Her only request was a chocolate bar from the vending machine. Do you suppose Mother Miriam would like a chocolate bar?”

That’s almost a really good point. The Evil Queen was nice, according to Queen Moon, and a chocolate bar is an okay thing to ask for. 

“The Dreadmother’s not like the Evil Queen.” You tell her. Something in your guts says that the Dreadmother isn’t going to want a chocolate bar, and she was very clear last time. ‘Leave me alone’ is very, very clear. Crystal clear. 

“My daughter calls Queen Comet the Evil Queen, you know. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Comet wasn’t evil!”

“Not to us.” Moon allows. “But we knew her very well. Please call her Queen Eclipsa.”

“...Yes, Queen Moon. The Dreadmother--”

“Mother Miriam.”

“--Mother Miriam isn’t like Queen Eclipsa. She doesn’t want a chocolate bar. Ma’am.” 

“Oh, I know. That was a joke.” She winks at you, and your stomach does a different kind of flip than it was already doing. “She may, however, be reasoned with in a similar fashion. 

“She’s very, very angry.”

“I can only imagine. She was frozen after what I can only imagine to be the worst day of her life, and Eclipsa mentioned to me that time passes quickly while one is frozen. You said that she escaped her prison once before, yes?”

“We just wanted to ask her some questions.”

“Understandable. How did she manage such a thing?”

“She just, uh…” You frown. “Squiggled out of the crystal.”

“That makes sense. She’s rather like a snake, from what I remember--and what did she do, when she escaped?”

“...Tried to kill us.”

“Ah. Who else did she target?”

“Lekmet.” And she almost succeeded in snapping him up. You don’t know what would have happened if she did that. “It was just us.”

“...While that does somewhat disprove my theory about her rage being directed at you and Hekapoo primarily, I suppose it’s to be expected.”

“She’s not like she was before, Queen Moon.”

“Oh?”

You can’t look at her, staring instead at the door that seals the Dreadmother away from the rest of the prison. Thinking about this always makes you sick. “She was different.”

“How so?”

She was different in a thousand ways you can’t say. It hurts your head to think about. When you caught her, she didn’t look evil. She didn’t feel evil. Compared to everyone you’ve ever had to put in a crystal, she wasn’t even mad at you. ‘Just doing your job, right?’ That’s what she said. She was right. You didn’t even want to hurt her. Nothing in your guts said she was evil, even though she wouldn’t tell you anything about the Queen.

“...She’s different now.” You repeat, forcing the thoughts away. “Now she’s not like Eclipsa at all.”

“I should say not. She’s nearly ten times her size, to begin with.”

“The Dreadmother is a monster. She took off my whole arm when I tried to talk to her last time.”

The Queen looks to your arm, to your face, and back again.

“...I got better.”

“I don’t intend to get close enough for her to snap off my limbs, Rhombulus.”

“Neither did I.” You grumble. “She’s not like us. Evil people never are. Monsters are...different.”

“I find that evil-doers aren’t always monsters, dear.”

That’s true. You have frozen Mewmans here, too, but not nearly as many of them. Now probably isn’t the time to argue that point, though, since the princess is half-monster and (as far as your gut can tell) not evil. For now.

The Dreadmother is exactly where you (and Glossaryck) left her after that weird, rushed Commission meeting. She’s frozen in the same battle-pose, swords glinting in the magical fire light that keeps her prison visible. Maybe someday you’ll think of a way to take her swords without risking her cutting off your head with them.

“We can do this a little bit like how you talked to Eclipsa.” You say, not looking away from the frozen prisoner. You always forget how...tall she would be if she wasn’t frozen mid-strike. If she was sitting up straight, you’d probably come up to her waist. “She can’t have her whole head free, though.”

“Lest she escapes again, I presume?”

“...Yeah. I probably shouldn’t leave you alone with her, either.”

“You left me alone with Eclipsa.”

“Eclipsa didn’t try to kill people when I unfreeze her.”

“Touche. You won’t be leaving, then? That will make speaking with her more difficult.”

You frown. “Why?”

“You’re her captor, Rhombulus. I doubt she’ll be pleased to see you.”

_The slither of scales on crystal, a softer hiss than the one she makes as she rears up to get at you where you’re hiding behind another crystallized prisoner. Lekmet bleating at you to run and the cracks in the ground where she slammed her swords down an inch shy of you._

“No. She hates us.” 

_Cold steel bites into your shoulder with a spray of ichor. She was above you, why didn’t you look up? Lekmet sacrifices years of his life after she’s contained. Sometimes, before you moved her to the basement, you swear you could hear her hissing._

As far as you know, she would do the same to anyone in the High Commission if she had the chance. Maybe she would attack anyone. Sometimes being crystallized can...focus specific feelings, like being frozen in their own minds for too long simmers parts of them away. Usually compassion is the first thing to go. 

“She probably hates everyone now.” Or it seems like she does. “Queen Moon, I really don’t think she’ll help you.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s worth a try. What could go wrong?”

Lots of things _could_ go wrong, but you don’t think she would appreciate a list. “...Okay, Your Majesty. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

This is a bad idea, you think, as you unmake a cube of crystal in front of her face. The bone-crushing _snap_ of her jaws shutting echoes through the huge, empty room, making you jump in place a little. You hate that sound. The crystal around her snout grinds unhappily against her bleached stone scales as she turns her head, trying to find an angle where she can strike again and failing with a snarl. 

“Mother Miriam!” The Queen calls, taking a step forward despite how the Dreadmother wriggles in her prison. 

“Your Majesty--”

“Quiet, Rhombulus. Mother Miriam, I am Queen Moon Butterfly and I come to you with questions about King Seth of Septarsis, and the late Prince Toffee.”

She hisses loud and low in the back of her throat, a strange sound that reverberates within the crystal--no, not a hiss. The Dreadmother is laughing. She fixes her hateful yellow eyes on you.

“ _Voco ac tenebras ad me,_ ” she rasps. Her voice reminds you of gravel; rough and sharp, the words echo in a chorus of whispers around the huge room. “ _Ab extremis terræ, et profundis maris._ ”

You hear her words in your mind in another language. _‘I call the darkness unto me, from furthest earth and deepest sea.’_ The translation is flawless, instant as she continues. You can’t move. Her eyes pin you to the floor, these eyes you’ve seen a thousand times in your dreams. Oh, corn. You can’t move.

“ _I call to evil never woken to break for me what can’t be broken. The darkest night will take my soul, I will crush my heart like burning coal to with words guide this killing power; grasp my hated foe and dev--_ ”

 

Moon does what you can’t. She freezes her mid-word.

Silence.

The Queen is staring at your prisoner. You can never read faces, but even you can see how horrified she is. Could she understand the words of the spell? That’s such an ancient language. You thought no one spoke it, but then, the Dreadmother is ancient too. 

“She was going to kill you.” Her voice is so quiet, you can barely hear her. All you can focus on are the Dreadmother’s slavering jaws, wicked fangs half as long as your arms and the pure hatred in her piercing eyes. “Rhombulus, she was going to kill you.”

“Yeah. She was.” There’s not much else to say. “I told you. She’s not like Eclipsa.”

No. She isn’t anything like the Evil Queen. Moon looks more upset than you’ve ever seen her. Maybe you should look away, give her a moment to compose herself.

“It’s okay.” You pat her shoulder in a way you hope is comforting without being disrespectful. “I can’t die.”

“I know that spell. It would kill you.”

“Are you sure?”

She looks sure. “No. Yes. Maybe. I’m sorry for bringing you here, Rhombulus, I never imagined…”

“Who’s spell is that?”

“Queen Eclipsa’s, or so I thought. Now,” she looks to the frozen Dreadmother. “I’m not so sure. I could feel her magic, Rhombulus. It’s like nothing I ever felt before. I haven’t felt it since the last time I cast that spell. I thought it the darkness, a darker form of magic I was never meant to know. Do monsters with magical ability...do they cast as I do?”

“No.”

“Then what I know is a translation of her spell. I never imagined--can all the Mothers cast as she does?”

“I don’t know, but, uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a sign of the darkness.” She circles the frozen woman carefully, looking at her arms in particular before coming to stand as close to her face as she can. “How is she doing this? This should take a magical conduit to cast, or at the very least some sort of motion. To cast so easily…”

“You should really talk to Hekapoo about this.”

The Queen gasps, drawing your eye. “Can she hear us?”

“I don’t know.”

“There was a flicker of,” She’s almost touching the crystal. “ Something. Something dark. Do you suppose she’ll hold that power, until she’s unfrozen?”

“Your Majesty, this really isn’t--”

“Hekapoo. Look! There it is again. Hekapoo!”

This time you see the spark of toxic-looking magic. It looks like it’s boiling in her throat for a split second, and then it’s gone as quickly as it appears. If Queen Moon wasn’t seeing it too, you might think you imagined it.

“She can hear us. Either that, or her magic is responding without her. If you can hear me, Mother Miriam, please.” She presses a gloved hand to the Dreadmother’s crystal prison. “Hekapoo didn’t kill your son, his daughter did. It was a terrible accident, and now we’re trying to hide her from Seth. I need to know what happened. Why did you leave? What does he want with Toffee and Star?”

There’s no trace of the dark magic. Queen Moon reaches up as though to touch her own, more fragile crystal around the woman’s face as though she’s going to unfreeze her again. You fix it with a stern look and the crystal hardens into your own.

“I can’t let you do that.” You say, knowing it will upset her but also knowing that it won’t matter how upset she is if she’s dead. 

“We need this information.”

“Mewni needs a queen. We need you. I can’t let you unfreeze her again.”

“Star’s life might depend on this information.”

“She’s not the queen right now.”

“She’ll be the queen if she survives!” Queen Moon whirls around to face you. “And she’ll survive much more easily if we have this information.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Rhombulus--”

You wince. “Please don’t yell at me. I’m just doing my job. She’s evil, she’s using dark magic, and I can’t unfreeze her again without permission from the whole Commission.”

“You could unfreeze her right now.”

“No. If you want to talk to her more, we have to get the Commission.”

Hopefully she won’t want that to happen. You’ll be in a lot of trouble for letting the Queen down here, if anyone finds out. Maybe she’ll just forget about this crazy idea and move on. 

“I...understand. Thank you, Rhombulus, for protecting me. How ever unnecessarily. She was not, after all, trying to harm me. You were her target.”

“Her first target.” You correct. “We don’t know what she would have done next.”

The Queen frowns. “No. I suppose we don’t.”

 

\----------

 

Be Marco.

This isn’t going to end well.

You’ve never seen Star so mad. She snatches the scissors out of Ferguson’s clammy hand and seals the portal before he can even complain.

“Absolutely not!” She brandishes the scissors at him sharply. “This is an immensely powerful tool of travel and communication, not a toy!”

“I know, I know, but--”

“No! Clearly you don’t know! These are _dimensional scissors._ They’re forged by a goddess for a specific victory of her incredibly dangerous challenge. They’re meant for bridging the divides between dimensions, not _playing._ ”

“Oh, come on, Star! It’s just so boring here!”

“And what were you thinking of when you cut that portal?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Nothing.”

“Then you would have been flung into the furthest ring of the void and suffocated, with my scissors on your dumb corpse.” She jams the scissors back into her pocket. “Put your hand in my pocket again, and I’ll cut it off for stealing from me.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t even take them! That was Alfonzo.”

“Uh, well…” Alfonzo looks from Star to Ferguson and back, sweating in place. He makes a second of eye contact with you, but you look away as fast as you can. Nope, you’re not getting in the way. 

You know the face she’s wearing, and it makes you sick to your stomach. Well, it’s been fun, but Star’s going to make this field trip the first one ever to have a body count and you don’t want to watch it happen. 

He squeals and you (instinctively) look up to see Star holding her scissors point-first at Alfonzo’s throat. Oh, god. It’s happening.

“The punishment for stealing from me your hand.” She tells him, like she’s discussing the weather instead of holding him at scissor-point. “I’ll snap it off and slap you with it. Don’t touch my stuff.”

This is the point where you should get Ms. Skullnick to turn around and stop this, but you’re frozen in place. Even if you tried, you don’t think your voice would work. It was really only a matter of time before one of your classmates found out about Star not being a normal kid.

Welcome to reality, guys. She might come to class and have a human boyfriend, but your best friend isn’t human and she doesn’t see anything wrong with murder if someone threatens her. Like father like daughter, you think, and instantly feel guilty despite the fact you’re watching Star stare Alfonzo down while he considers how easy it would be for her to kill him if he says the wrong thing. Which he will. Bye, Alfonzo. At least it’s not a gun. 

“STAR UHLAYISS!” Ms. Skullnick squawks behind you, startling the museum-goers behind you and breaking the tension like it’s glass. “What is THAT?”

Star opens her mouth to say something right as Ms. Skullnick snatches the scissors out of her hand the same way she snatched your phone with very different results. Alfonzo staggers back on jelly-legs (you know that feeling) as Star turns around and gets a big, scaly green hand over her mouth before she can speak or screech--the screech being more likely.

“I don’t want to hear it! You calm down, think of something reasonable to say, and I’ll move my hand. Class,” She looks at the stunned group of boys in particular, then back to the main group. “Go on to the next unit. I’ll be right there. No funny business!”

With that, she pretty much frog-marches a still-gagged Star out of the line and off towards the exit. 

“Dude.” Janna leans against your shoulder. “Fucking metal.”

Everybody else looks about as frozen as you feel. Okay, Diaz, do something. Do something!

“Come on,” You raise your voice a little, ignoring how it catches in your throat. “Come on, class! Let’s go to the next area, like Ms. Skullnick said. I bet she’ll be back with Star in a minute.”

“No way, dude. She’s probably calling the cops.”

You wince. Thanks, Janna. “God, I hope not.”

Surprisingly enough, the class does what you say--muttering in groups of two and three, unhappy and on edge, they still continue through the museum. It’s only a few minutes before Ms. Skullnick comes back with Star, like you hoped she would, and continues on with the field trip like nothing ever happened after a quick word with Alfonzo. At least he looks fine. 

Star spends the rest of the field trip walking quietly next to your teacher. Apparently she’s not allowed to talk to anyone, because she won’t even meet your eyes. When the tour is over and you all walk in a scatter plot of a line back to the bus, Star has to sit with Ms. Skullnick. You’re pretty much by yourself, and you still don’t have your phone. 

As for how you’re feeling, well, you can’t say. It’s not good. Every time you try to come up with a word for what’s going on in your head, you draw a blank. It’s just nothing. You’ve got a skull full of white noise and questions that pop up every so often before you can push them out again. They’re not nice questions; mostly things like ‘would Star really kill Alfonzo’ and ‘would she kill you if you touched her scissors?’ Not ideal questions to think about, but you don’t have music and you can’t text Star because you don’t have your phone. 

This is gonna be a really long bus ride, huh. Nothing like the ride this morning. Hey Marco, remember when he had to worry about normal things like sending your crush memes and teasing Star about her boyfriend’s bad music? That was pretty cool, huh? You duck into the same seat you had this morning. Alone. Fantastic!

“Hey, uh, Marco. Is someone sitting here?”

Jackie Lynn Thomas, the girl of your dreams, is standing in the aisle next to your seat. Oh god. This is not a drill. She’s talking to you. Not even the static in your brain can completely blot out your sheer awkward panic. Don’t think, don’t think, she’s looking at you, say something! Be friendly!

“No, I mean yeah. You are, if you want.”

She grins at you. “Cool. Thanks.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, ladies and gents! Sorry this chapter is a little less polished than usual. I'm not doing very well this week, and writing is a struggle at the moment. As always, thank you so much for your comments and kudos! Toffee's hot mom totally wouldn't try to kill any of you.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one forgot about Tom.
> 
> (I did. Just a little. Sorry that this chapter is late.)

Your name is usually VOGMORION JON’XATH, the CRUSHER OF JOY AND GOOD SPIRITS. But today, you are assuming the alias ‘Mr. Candle.’ 

Working for the Lucitor family has taken you to many strange and exotic locales. You have fought twice in the Monster-Mewman Wars, you have strategized with the brightest minds of your age to wage war against upstart scissor-bearers attempting to bring terrible ideas such as Democracy and _Medicine_. 

The memory of their terrible, communist ideals is enough to keep you awake at night. There is no greater threat to the honorable House of Lucitor and the way of life surrounding them than these horrible, unspeakable ideals. You shudder to think of them even now. Democracy! _Medicine! _What foul affronts to your ancient, unspeakable gods will the peasants think of next? What could make any illness worse, save the use of needles?!__

__Though you have fought and strategized troop movements and displays in every terrain, from damp tropical settlements to the deepest of fire-pits, none of these locations have been so strange as Echo Creek High School._ _

__Prince Tom approached you quietly some weeks before this day. He has need of your strategic talents, and you are ever in the service of the honorable House Lucitor. You did not hesitate to swear the deepest and most sacred vow of secrecy to your crowned prince before he explained the circumstances. Even now, in this strange and bright world, you do not regret your loyalty._ _

__“This will be a...subtle mission. You can’t tell anyone about it. My parents are the only people who know about this, and it has to be top secret.” Prince Thomas takes a seat in one of the armchairs in this private meeting room he’s called you to, and gestures for you to do the same. “As you know, Queen Butterfly has recently announced an heir to her throne, surprising every kingdom in Mewni. Do you know about this?”_ _

__“Yes, Your Grace.”_ _

__“Good. She made her debut at the Silver Bell Ball, but she was wearing a glamour. My mother and I both picked up on it. Want to guess why she was wearing a glamour?”_ _

__“...I wouldn’t know, Your Grace.” Plenty of ladies of the court wear glamours to hide their true faces, whether it be a matter of security or simple, feminine insecurity. “Perhaps she is...pre-empting assassination attempts, by crafting a public face?”_ _

__“Oh, Vogmorion. You have no idea how right and wrong you are. But now that you’re sworn to secrecy, I can tell you everything I know.”_ _

__Princess Astera Miriam Butterfly, first of her name, should not be a princess at all. You listen to your prince’s explanation and fight back laughter. She is Queen Butterfly’s bastard daughter, born before her marriage to King Butterfly, and that isn’t all. Oh no. She wears a glamour in public and inside the castle, at any time her subjects might come across her, because she is a monster._ _

__Queen Moon Butterfly, first of her name, fucked a monster. How rich! The woman who turns her nose up at Queen Lucitor’s appearance went ahead and stepped out on her court with a Septarian. Of all the monsters she might have chosen, a Septarian? Such terrible taste. You scoff at her in the privacy of her own mind. It’s a thin line between a devil and a Septarian._ _

__Prince Thomas tells you of his journey to Earth, of seeing Princess Astera’s true face and catching a glimpse of her father. As though the story couldn’t get any more interesting, your prince tells you of his suspicions as to who the man was--the Immortal Monster, long thought dead by Queen Moon’s own hand. As a demon, you find this entire narrative delicious._ _

__“In this case,” Prince Thomas takes a sip of tea that he conjured on the table between your chair and his own. “I think Queen Butterfly’s mistake could be our gain, and my parents agree. Star hates her mother. The princess doesn’t even stay in the palace. She lived on Earth, with her father and a human host family...until recently. Now, Vogmorion, her father is gone. She’s basically defenseless, sad, and single. Very single.”_ _

__The prince tells you his plan over the course of the next hour. Since the princess is a monster and unlikely to ever marry a mewman, Prince Thomas and his parents want him to court and marry her. The Lucitor family will seize greater power from the Butterfly family than they could under a purely Mewman lineage, Prince Thomas will get to court and marry her (which he seems rather keen on, if his longing description of her is any indication), and the princess will be able to reform her country’s view on half-monsters without revealing herself and losing the throne. It’s brilliant._ _

__There is the matter of getting the princess to court Prince Thomas. You can think of no reason why she would refuse if she’s as intelligent as the prince says. Though honesty is rarely a valid policy in your experience, this may be an exception. If this is explained to the princess before approaching Queen Butterfly with a formal request to court her, she will (if she’s so intelligent as your prince thinks her) accept, and the plan will be more smoothly executed. Your prince, however, doesn’t want to leave so important a matter to chance._ _

__This is where your expertise is needed. As one of the greatest strategists and interrogators in the Lucitor Family’s employ, the Prince sends you to the Earth dimension in a disguise. Your mission is to keep her away from the human Marco Diaz, a boy that Prince Lucitor suspects of trying to court the princess in secret, and to remind her of her duties as the future Queen._ _

__Your name is now Mr. Candle, and you are surprised at how complex the human job title ‘school counselor’ is. Aside from preparations for something called ‘Career Day’, there are a lot of things the last counselor left unfinished. What sort of horrible, sub-par work ethic gave birth to this mess? You’re outraged by the sloppiness. It’s no small wonder that the last counselor wasn’t fired more promptly._ _

__Though it isn’t strictly within the parameters of your mission, you do a bit of...housekeeping, so to speak._ _

__It is what some might call your fatal flaw. You tend to get far too involved in your work, whatever that work may be. Today (three days after your official assignment) you wake surrounded by your paperwork backlog and curse yourself for falling asleep before you finished. None of these papers have anything to do with Princess Star. There are no less than fourteen student meetings lined up for the day--ranging anywhere from simple conflict counselling to (theoretically) filling out a Human Social Service report and investigating truancy._ _

__One of your students (the students, you remind yourself, you are not a real guidance counselor) has not been to class since the first day of school. No one in the office thought to unenroll him, and the previous counselor didn’t meet with him even once. Debra the Office Secretary told you that all of the teachers avoid him. Just shameful. How are these children supposed to thrive and flourish in their studies if the adults in their lives consistently fail them this way?_ _

__You have a busy day today. After a short call with Prince Lucitor (who you think would benefit from a bit of counselling, if your research is any indication) you leave your Earth apartment for the day to fly to work._ _

__Now that you have been employed for several days and feel confident that the guidance office is prospering more efficiently than before, you should turn your eyes back to the mission at hand. Prince Thomas will only be patient for so long, though he offers no suggestion about getting the princess into your office. The calendar you inherited says that there’s a school-wide Career Day in a month’s time. No doubt Prince Lucitor will find that inadequate, you think, waving hello to Debra the Office Secretary on your way into the building. What a delightful woman._ _

__Everything goes more smoothly than expected. Finally, your day is drawing to a close. Mr. Greason, your most worrying student, has been re-issued his schedule and told sternly that he is to attend school. You have no less than sixteen internet windows open as you investigate exactly what emancipation is, since he’s asked you very nicely not to call Human Social Services and tell them he’s living in a car._ _

__This will be a terrible headache, but between your thirteen other meetings of the day and all your successes, you find this job extremely rewarding. Debra the Office Secretary brings you a cup of coffee a few minutes before the end of school._ _

__“You’re doing amazing,” she says, placing the covered cup on your desk. “I don’t think Mr. Gundyr saw this many students in a month. Is your schedule this busy tomorrow?”_ _

__“I’m afraid so.”_ _

__“That’s a good thing, right?”_ _

__“It is. These students need someone to help them. I find it...incredibly distasteful that anyone would take this job, and not do the work required. Isn’t it sickening?” You wave a glamoured human hand as if to gesture to every unfinished stack of work in your office as you take a sip of your coffee. Delicious. Human coffee is incredible. “I’ve just spoken to Mr. Greason. Is there a reason why all his teachers and the enrollment officer ignore what’s happening to him? The kid lives in his car. I just set up a lunch account with $100 in it so he can eat at least one meal a day that isn’t out of the garbage.”_ _

__You may be a devil, but you still have a soul._ _

__She puts a hand to her lips in horror. “I had no idea. He’s eating out of the garbage?”_ _

__“Well, he hasn’t got any money. Sixteen-year-olds need parental permission to work, and he hasn’t spoken to his mother in months. He’s clearly learned that he can’t trust authority, because he won’t say a word about what happened or why. He mentioned a girlfriend, but he clammed up when I started asking more questions. Do you happen to know if--”_ _

__A knock on your open office door startles you and Debra both. You look up, only to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. There are trolls on Earth? You should have been informed._ _

__“Mr. Candle, right?” She asks, in the lowest and most beautiful voice you could imagine. “That’s right, there’s a new counselor. Do you have a minute?”_ _

__You’re so overwhelmed by her presence, it takes you a moment to notice that she has Princess Star herself beside her._ _

__“...Yes, of course. If you’ll have a seat in the chairs outside, I can be with you in just a moment.”_ _

__“That’s his girlfriend.” Debra whispers. “I think they’re cute together. They hang out in the parking lot after school.”_ _

__“I see.” Suddenly, you are relieved that Tom has not set up his mirror surveillance of your office yet._ _

__While you are, of course, loyal to the Lucitor Family...Prince Thomas has never been your favored master. Pride has always made it difficult for you to take orders from children--and you are, despite only meeting him half an hour ago, partial to the Greason boy. He is a soft, unassuming creature. You would not like to open him up to Prince Lucitor’s scorn and jealousy. Let him continue to think Marco Diaz is the princess’s beloved. Oskar Greason has enough troubles._ _

__“I’ll be back,” Debra promises on her way out. “I’ll bring you another cup of coffee.”_ _

__Excellent. You love human coffee._ _

__“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, ma’am.” You say, waving Ms. Skullnick and the princess into your office, fighting the urge to bow to this lovely vision of a woman. Humans do not bow, Vogmorion. “May I get your name?”_ _

__“Ms. Skullnick, and this is Star Uhlayiss. She’ll be in the school system as Astera. That’s _A-S-T-E-R-A_.”_ _

__“Yes, I see her.” She’s beautiful and helpful! What more could you hope for? “Let’s see here, let’s see….so she has no school record before attending Echo Creek?”_ _

__The princess shrugs. “I’m a transfer student.”_ _

__“Where did you transfer from?”_ _

__“The Butterfly dungeon, in a dimension called Mewni. I was homeschooled.”_ _

__You wince. “Understood. And what brings you here today, Ms. Uhlayiss?”_ _

__“Oh, uh…” The princess looks to Ms. Skullnick nervously. “Should I…?”_ _

__“She got into a fight with another student during a field trip. I walked her here to make sure she came, but I’m hoping you can talk to her. I don’t want to suspend her, since she’s explained what happened and I think it was reasonable. Unfortunately, she held a pair of magical scissors to her classmate’s throat.”_ _

__“Not breaking any specific rules,” you point out. “But dangerous behavior. Would you like to stay for her counselling?”_ _

__“No, that’s alright. I have tests to grade.”_ _

__“Of course. I’ll keep you updated by email, if that’s alright?”_ _

__“Or come to my classroom during lunch tomorrow. It’s all the same to me.”_ _

__That is what you’ll do. You’ll take any opportunity to see her again, and you want to say so. Be strong, Vogmorion. There is a child present. You still watch her leave your office as discreetly as possible, but Princess Star is grinning when you turn your attention to her. Damn, an observant one. That’s just your luck._ _

__“...So, Ms. Uhlayiss. May I call you Star?”_ _

__“I don’t really care what you call me, sir.”_ _

__“Star it is. Star, I’m Mr. Candle. I’ve been a counselor at this school for four days now, and it’s pretty messy right now. Knowing the answer to this question already, did you ever meet with Mr. Gundyr before he...left Echo Creek?”_ _

__“Just to make my schedule.”_ _

__“I see. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about what happened today?”_ _

__She shrugs, leaning back a little in her chair with her little arms folded tightly across her chest. “Ms. Skullnick pretty much covered it. I threatened another student, because he stole my scissors and almost killed a bunch of other students playing with them.”_ _

__“...With your scissors?” This must be a pair of dimensional scissors, but human Mr. Candle wouldn’t know that._ _

__“They’re called dimensional scissors. Here, I can show you.” She pulls a small, skull-themed pair of scissors from her dress pocket. They’re thinner than other pairs you’ve seen, with jagged blades and round bone handles. “So they look like cosplay junk, but I can use them to cut portals to other dimensions.”_ _

__“Can you show me how you do this?”_ _

__She cuts a small portal next to her, and sticks a hand through it. When she withdraws her hand she’s holding your cup of coffee. Carefully, she returns it to your desk. These are real scissors, then. It’s no wonder that she defended them how she did. Authentic dimensional scissors are worth a carriage-full of gold per blade._ _

__“I...think I understand. How did he put the rest of your class in danger?”_ _

__“If you aren’t thinking about a specific place when you cut the portal, then you end up somewhere in the Void. So, since he doesn’t know about any other dimensions, he didn’t think about anything in particular. I don’t know what would happen if they went through the portal he made, and I wouldn’t be able to go get them if I don’t know where they are.”_ _

__So far, she is doing an excellent job of explaining this. She’s very articulate. “I assume they would have taken the scissors with them too.”_ _

__“That’s not the issue, exactly...er, it kind of is. It’s like this.” Star pulls a second, more elegant pair of scissors from the same pocket. This pair is long, sleek, forged of silvery metal. They wink at you in the light, far more enticing than the first pair. “I have two pairs. Most people don’t, but uh, I...do, even though I’ve never done the Scissor Quest. So I would still have one pair. Not that I would be happy about losing them...”_ _

__“Can you tell me about this ‘Scissor Quest?’” Of course you know what that is, but your curiosity about her scissors colors the question enough to sound genuine._ _

__“Yeah. Every pair of scissors is forged by the same goddess, for people who earn them with a quest. Once you get them, though, you’re allowed to pass them on to whoever you want. Usually after you die. So I have these. One pair,” She holds up the smaller of the two. “Belonged to Ludo Avarius, General of the New Monster Army. I like to call them the NMA. Ludo gave them to me after I defeated him and killed his whole army. He also gave me a dragon skull, but I’m not allowed to wear hats in school.”_ _

__That is immensely impressive. “...And the other pair?”_ _

__“They were my dad’s. He gave them to me before he died.”_ _

__You frown. Prince Lucitor said nothing to you about her father dying. That shouldn’t be possible. You know, as everyone knows, that Septarians do not simply die. They’re the demons of monsterkind. Every Septarian you’ve ever met is as reckless as they are capable, and the man clearly raised Star as one of their kind. Men who escape execution, seduce queens, and raise little generals don’t drop dead. How is this possible?_ _

__That question will have to wait. As curious as you are, the princess looks like she’s going to cry before she gathers herself up and continues._ _

__“Anyway, Alfonzo took my dad’s scissors and almost killed the whole class, so I told him if he tried that again I would cut his hand off. Because that’s the punishment for stealing, where I’m from. I forget it’s not the same on Earth. Ms. Skullnick saw, we had a chat, and then I had to stay with her for the rest of the day.”_ _

__How are you supposed to advise against that when it’s exactly what you would do? You wouldn’t even give him a second chance. It was a smart course of action, so you’ll have to settle for asking her about details while you think of something else to say. “What did you talk about?”_ _

__“I just...you know, explained how the scissors worked and why it was so serious. She said I probably shouldn’t bring them to school, I pointed out that they could get stolen if I leave them lying around, and she said I had to come talk to you if I didn’t want to get suspended. If you agree that it’s reasonable, I can go back to class like normal. Mostly.”_ _

__“It seems fair enough. I think this is different from most student fights. There were high stakes. You’re obviously very mature for your age.”_ _

__“Thanks. I wasn’t allowed to have a childhood.”_ _

__You snort in spite of yourself. This little girl is very relatable. “I bet. From what you’ve told me, I think that your life is usually dangerous. You aren’t used to arguing with children your age, and you don’t know how to handle conflicts that aren’t resolved with battle. It doesn’t surprise me that you reacted like this. You are, as we say, a big fish in a small pond.”_ _

__For a moment you think she’s going to argue, but she nods after a pause. Thinking over what you’ve said. You appreciate that._ _

__“Mr. Candle, I think I have Human Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”_ _

__“...And why do you think that?” Oh, no. What is that?! “If you don’t mind my asking.”_ _

__“Well, I’ve been reading the Human DSM5, and I fit all the criteria. A: I’ve been exposed to death, injury, and threats of sexual violence.” She ticks the criteria off on her fingers, as casual as can be. “I grew up in a dungeon full of, uh, dimensional Nazis, basically. B: I get nightmares, flashbacks, and intrusive thoughts. C: I avoid Mewmans--er, the dimensional Nazis--my...Moon, and my magic wand. D: I’ve gotten really negative, it’s hard to be happy, and I’m not enjoying my magic lessons anymore. E: I’m irritable, don’t sleep very well, can’t concentrate, and I got way more destructive in the last month. And all this has been going on...well, my whole life probably, but it’s gotten even worse lately.”_ _

__“You’ve clearly done a lot of research about this.”_ _

__“I like research. It makes me feel better when I know what’s going on in my head.”_ _

__“That’s very reasonable.” If you’re putting her symptoms together right, she’s describing a kind of battle sickness. “Who wouldn’t want to know?”_ _

__This shouldn’t surprise you, if she’s been in so many battles as she says. The implication of ‘threats of sexual abuse’ makes your shirt collar feel tight and your vision tinge with red as you try to remind yourself where you are, who you’re speaking with, what your mission is._ _

__Fuck your mission, another part of you grumbles. Prince Lucitor has no idea what this girl’s life is like. What gives him the right to make her feel even more isolated? She’s at least twice the warrior he is, though zero twice is still zero. Princess Star is already more regal than your master, and she’s only been a princess for a short time. Prince Lucitor could learn a thing or two from her manners and composure._ _

__No. You still have a mission to complete--though you will have words with your prince later. It would be better to talk to her about an alliance. She can make her own decision about Prince Lucitor and alliances. For now, you will...leave things open-ended. You force yourself to sigh, hoping it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels._ _

__“Well, Star, I’m not going to lie,” you say, lying to her. “This isn’t very princess-ly conduct. I understand why you did it, but you should apologize to Mr. Doolittle for threatening him.”_ _

__“No offense, sir, but what do you know about princess’ conduct?”_ _

__If you were who you say you are, she’d have you there. “Earth has royalty. I know a bit about princesses.”_ _

__“It’s not really the same in Mewni, though.”_ _

__“Are you sure about that? I think any ruler should practice patience.”_ _

__“...Probably. Patience is the least of my problems though, considering I’m a monster.”_ _

__“Doesn’t that make patience and compassion even more important, since people will already see you as a savage with no feelings or soul?” This bullshit leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s been a long time since you struggled to lie like this. “You’ll have to work twice as hard for people to like you as it is.”_ _

__“Yeah. You’re right. If I want to be a nice queen, anyway.”_ _

__“Do you want to be a nice queen?”_ _

__“You know what? I haven’t decided. My dad tried to raise me to be a smart, efficient person. Most of the time I think about honing my magic and writing new laws, not talking to my subjects. I’m supposed to fix things for my people. The Mewmans are just in my way. I don’t want to be nice to them.”_ _

___‘Don’t be,’_ you want to tell her. _‘Mewmans have had it too good for too long. Shake up their courts, challenge their traditions, make your changes.’__ _

__“It’s something to think about,” is all you say._ _

__“What would you do?”_ _

__Do as you pleased, enjoying the luxury of office while managing the economy and the people quickly and harshly. Heads would roll._ _

__“I would spend more time thinking about the things I do to prepare for my coronation. Every action affects your future, Star, even the little ones. You should apologize to your classmate, and double your efforts for study. I know that Career Day is still a ways away from today, but I do wonder--what would you like to be, if you didn’t have to be Queen?”_ _

__“...Hm.” She taps her fingers on her thigh as she thinks, caught off-guard by the question. “I’d like to be a prosecutor. A lawyer. I want to specialize in Criminal Justice like my dad.”_ _

__“That’s a noble job. It’s a shame you won’t have time for that--though you’ll get to be a judge, when you’re queen. You’ll probably settle most court cases.”_ _

__“I’ll have to build a real court first.” Star sounds so mournful that you actually feel guilty. “And it will be full of Mewmans. It won’t be the same.”_ _

__“It won’t. Have you given any thought to choosing a king? I assume that will come up soon, if Mewni’s as medieval as I’m picturing.”_ _

__She laughs, but it’s just a little too stiff to be genuine. That was clearly too bold a question. “...Probably. I don’t actually know, but I’m not marrying whatever asshole Moon picks out. I mean, er, butthole. That’s what I said.”_ _

__“Swear all you like in here. This is a safe space. I hear you’ve got a boyfriend at Echo Creek High School.”_ _

__“Yup. His name’s Oskar. Maybe he’ll be my king someday, and Moon will just have to fucking get over it.”_ _

__You laugh, surprised and genuine as you imagine Prince Lucitor’s reaction to her words. He would be driven to distraction with jealousy. Heads would roll._ _

__“...Hey, Mr. Candle?”_ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“Thanks for talking to me. You’re really good at your job, and you’ve given me a lot to think about.”_ _

__That brings a smile to your lips. Gratitude is so refreshing, even if it leaves you feeling guilty. “Thank you, Star, for letting me talk with you. I’ll write your teacher and tell her that I don’t recommend suspension. We can have a mediation meeting with Mr. Doolittle on monday. How does that sound?”_ _

__“That sounds really good. Thanks.”_ _

__“Just doing my job,” you assure her. That’s truer than she knows. Princess Star shakes your hand when offered, and goes on her merry way to do whatever it is teenagers do after school on Earth. On the way out of the building you can see her in the student parking lot, laying on the hood of a trashed car with Oskar Greason beside her. They look...happy. So very happy._ _

__You’re going to report to Prince Lucitor the moment you get back to your apartment. He answers the mirror call immediately, full of questions and insults, and you wish that all young royalty could be more like Star Uhlayiss. These insults to your intelligence and experience are grating on your nerves. They grate so much on your nerves that you decide, with little to no internal debate, that you won’t tell him anything about Oskar Greason and his silly, pointed smile. You won’t breathe a word about Princess Star upside-down on his car with her legs in his lap, singing along to his terrible music._ _

__Maybe the next time he talks to you, he’ll be a bit more respectful. You rather doubt it. If this is treason, well, Prince Lucitor should know better than to trust a full-blooded devil._ _

__

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, so sorry about this chapter coming out so late. I've just gotten a job, school is starting, and I am dying of something worse than death. Adult responsibilities. I may change the future updating schedule. Thank you all for kudos, comments, and your patience. Vogmorion hopes you have a good day, kids.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star has a lot to think about, Janna gets a surprise, and Oskar's back in class. Where is Marco? Good question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Have some normal teen angst, with a twist. Brittney who? Don't know her.
> 
> Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts here. Starburst is having a rough go of it.

Be Star, future queen of Mewni, with a lot to think about. Right now, you think Ms. Skullnick might actually like you, since she didn’t get you suspended or expelled for threatening Alfonzo at scissor-point. She just explained why you can’t do that, gave back your scissors to hold on to, and said you had to talk to the guidance counselor.

You also think there’s definitely something up with Mr. Candle. Did he think you wouldn’t notice that big, clunky glamour almost coloring the air around him? It’s such strong magic you can practically taste it. Even his voice is changed, not that you can tell what it should be. The spellwork on him is no joke, like you said. Something’s fishy here, and it’s got ‘Moon’ written all over it. Good job with a subtle spy, though. Ha. Whatever. So she knows you got in a fight? Big deal.

It is kind of a big deal, in your opinion, but that’s not the issue right now. Not yet, anyways.

Two problems right now. Both are pretty serious--er, not equally so, but one of them matters right now and one of them will matter in the next decade or two. The timeframe of problem one is a lot longer. Though, you know, Moon is so high-strung that it might become a problem sooner than expected. That dumb bitch is going to nag herself to an early grave (either naturally or at your hand, if she keeps sending fucking spies) and then you’ll lose all your freedom and have to take the throne. 

Problem two is a ‘right now’ kind of deal. Problem two’s name is Brittney Wong, and she’s a lot more present than the threat of being put in another cage. 

Most people are fine with what you look like! In fact, a lot of your classmates are used to it by now. Some people are jealous that you’re basically invincible and have a tail; namely Janna, but Thirteen is the same way. Being on Earth and seeing how cool everyone here has been really nice. Maybe all of Mewni would hate you, but there’s no one in this world like you and humans think you’re cool because of that. 

There are whole stories about people like you, in comics and movies and art. Janna says you’re like a real X-man. That means you’re like a superhero. It’s so...so good to have friends. You don’t even know what you would be without your new friends.

(Barring Ferguson and Alfonzo, who don’t come around anymore. You did apologize for losing your temper, like Mr. Candle said you should, but it didn’t fix anything. They’re scared of you now. At least Marco’s not mad about it like you thought he would be.)

The unfortunate flip-side to people getting used to what you look like is that people who hate you don’t hate you for your race at all. That’s...hard to think about. You grew up knowing that people would point, stare, and yell about who you are. People are just like that. But now that everyone’s moved past the idea of what you are and how you look, there are some people who hate you as a person and that hurts a lot more.

It’s Brittney. Brittney Wong hates you.

There’s no reason why you should care. Not everyone will like you, Star--in fact, most people probably won’t like you, and you know that. Knowing that in theory is a lot different from dealing with it in real life. This is just...different. But you also know that there’s no reason for her to hate you like this. What did you ever do to her?

All her taunts are a new kind of needling. She’s not just calling you names, oh no. People are remembering you’re an actual princess, and she’s...jealous, is what all your friends say, though you can’t imagine why. If you could, you’d give it to her. 

(Or maybe you wouldn’t, since she’s doing such a shitty job with the cheer squad that you don’t even know what she could do to a whole country. You imagine it would end in something similar to the French Revolution, which, yikes-a-roni. That’s all there really is to say about that.)

She’s trying to do things like getting to class early and stealing your seat, make fun of your answers in class, and even steal the group lunch table as a dumb display of power. Good job Brittney, that’s a crushing defeat. That definitely matters. Bitch.

That’s all fine though, you guess. Whatever. But now she’s added Oskar onto the list of things she wants to fuck with, and you aren’t cool with that.

Okay, well, that’s not a fair way to put it, is it? Oskar is oblivious most of the time, but he isn’t stupid and he’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions. There’s no stealing people. She’s trying to woo him with a bunch of shit he doesn’t actually care about. It’s kind of pathetic, actually, as she tries to ask him out (sometimes in front of you, interrupting your jam sesh with him) and he gets increasingly more confused as she tries harder to get his attention. 

Oh Human Jesus, what’s she even doing? 

The one time she approaches his car to ask him on a date (in front of you), Oskar is busy playing a song he calls ‘Polymorph Wand Attack!’ and headbanging. You’re headbanging too, so neither of you notice her standing there until she yells loud enough to be heard. He stops playing, Brittney takes out the ear plugs she was wearing, and the conversation goes a like this:

 

Brittney: “Hey, Oskar, do you want to go with me to the Skate Night on friday?”  
Oskar: “Huh?”  
Brittney: “The Skate Night! Friday!”  
Oskar: “Why are you yelling?”  
Brittney: “Because you apparently can’t hear me!”  
Oskar: “Can I bring Star?”  
Brittney: “Excuse me?”  
Oskar: “Can I bring Star?”  
Brittney: “I’M ASKING YOU ON A DATE! BREAK UP WITH HER, AND COME WITH ME ON FRIDAY! I’LL GIVE YOU A HUNDRED DOLLARS!”  
Oskar: “Uh...but can she come?”  
Brittney: “NO!”  
Oskar: “...Pass, but thanks.”  
Oskar: “Star, do you wanna go to Skate Night on Friday?”

Needless to say, Brittney’s not doing a great job of stealing him. Winning him over. Whatever you want to call it. She’s embarrassed about it (since two of her cheerleader minions were watching and giggling over it) and you have a date! A super fun date, too. You love Skate Night. Rollerblades are the coolest. Oskar could probably do with a hundred human dollars, but he says that the money will come if it’s meant to. He’s so cool.

There’s definitely tension though. That’s what you’re getting at. And all this tension comes to a breaking point during a quiet, unsuspecting Latin class. 

There’s a substitute today, and she’s having a hard time with the lesson. That’s what happens when people don’t study Latin in school, you guess, she doesn’t know anything about it. She has to run to the office really quick to grab the key for the supply closet, and she left Francis in charge. Good try, teacher lady. Now everybody’s talking, and no one listens when he tells them to be quiet.

In a room of chatty kids, you and Janna are the only ones actually doing a conjugation worksheet. Janna is getting progressively more tense next to you as time goes on. Maybe it’s the noise. 

Not the noise. Oh, right, Brittney’s doing that fun thing where she says rude things about you just loud enough for you to hear, if you care and want to listen. Which you don’t. Janna, on the other hand, cares way more about people being rude to you in school than you do. She’s stopped writing completely. While you’re half-watching her over your work she slams her pen down on the table so hard you think it might break. 

Oh. Brittney’s talking about your dad.

“Hey!” Janna turns around in her seat to face the back of the class. “Could you shut the hell up?!”

Brittney looks at Janna like she’s a bug instead of a person. “What’s wrong with you, Ordonia? Out of adderall?”

“Quit talking shit about my friend, will you? You don’t know anything about her, or her dad!”

“Janna,” You whisper her name, like that’s going to help hide that you’re crying a little bit and your voice is all choked up. “It’s not worth it. I wasn’t even listening. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“So she shouldn’t be talking at all!”

Brittney smacks her gum, smirking at Janna. “It’s a free country, Ordonia. Not like a dumb wetback illegal like you knows anything about America. Just drop out of school already.”

“I’m Greek, you dumbass bitch, and if you say one more word about Star then I’m going to curse your face with so many pimples you can’t talk without popping them.”

“Wow, so you think you’re a real witch! Do you and the lizard have sleepovers to talk about how you’re both witches and so useless your parents left you?”

There’s a flash of red behind Janna’s eyes as she raises a hand towards Brittney’s face.

“Spyrákia.”

Brittney’s face just erupts with nasty, swollen, pus-filled pimples. What word is that? You don’t know that word at all. Pimple is papulae in Latin, so what language is that? Spyrákia. Whatever it is, it worked. It’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever seen. The classroom is dead silent as Brittney takes a moment to realize what just happened. She raises one hand to her face like she’s in a trance, touches the mountain range on her chin, and screams. Everyone is staring at Janna as she bolts out of the room.

“It...It worked.” Janna looks down at her hand, then to you, eyes sparkling. “It worked! I can cast!”

“You can cast.” 

“I can cast! Okay kids, I’m in charge now. And oh,” She shrinks a little when she turns back and sees your almost-tears. “First order of business Do you wanna…?”

Go to the bathroom or something? “Yeah.”

“I’ll tell the sub where you went, since I’m in charge now. Brittney’s probably in the nurse’s office. Hope she enjoys that ice pack. Because it will tooootally help.”

You don’t really know what to do with yourself once you leave the classroom. Walking in circles around the halls is a good way to get sent right back to class, which you can’t do. Brittney’s in the nurse’s office, so you can’t go there to lay down for a minute, and you don’t really want to sit in the bathroom for the next hour before school is over. Walking in circles it is. You’ll deal with someone stopping you when it happens. If it happens? If it happens.

Damn it, you’re trying so hard not to think about...that. What happened. Somewhere between Angie trying to comfort you by talking through your new orphan status and Marco’s careful avoidance of ever bringing it up (since he thinks it’s his fault, which it isn’t) you’ve decided the best way to deal with all your feelings is cram them down as hard as you can, and one day you’ll die.

Here’s what you know for sure. You, Star Miriam Uhlayiss, are not strong enough to even think about it. According to Angie the only way to deal with grief is to talk about it. You’re not even capable of talking about it, so see the above plan. All your feelings, right in the middle, and you’ll die someday. In about eight years you’ll be able to drink to forget. Your plan assumes that you’ll...see him again when you die, but you were pretty comfortable with that idea until Brittney opened her stupid mouth. 

Would Brittney have said what she said if she knew how hard you thought about cutting the time on that reunion? It wouldn’t be easy to kill yourself, but you’ve thought about it. If you’re dead then you don’t have to worry about being a Queen or being all by yourself. King Seth can’t get you for...whatever it is he wants you for if you’re dead. You’d never have to talk to Queen Moon again, the MHC wouldn’t have to worry about what you’re doing with your new collection of dimensional scissors, and you’ll never be able to fuck up so bad ever again. 

So far your best bet seems like setting yourself on fire with magic, but that’s a big if. Either you’ll pass out mid-burning and wake up dead, or you’ll spend the next month out of school to regrow whatever you manage to destroy before you lose concentration on the fire spell. Maybe that’s not as viable as you hope it is. Better idea? Take the wand back to Ludo’s destroyed castle and try to kill it again. That’s the only thing you know for sure will kill you. 

But maybe since you’re thinking about what Brittney said so hard your dad won’t even be happy to see you. Maybe he’s already moved on to his next life. Maybe he’s just happy that he’s finally free of you and everything else. Maybe he’s just...gone, and you’ll never see him again in this life.

You don’t even know what’s going to happen to your soul when you die. You’re not a true Septarian. This might be the only life you have.

Good riddance then, you guess. Hey, for real? Being alive sucks. 

Without thinking about it you’ve walked to Marco’s last class of the day. If you had to guess, he’s the only one of your friends who would put up with how you’re feeling right now. He’ll just hug you and (thank Human God) not try to talk about it. Hugging is good. Not talking or thinking about this...thing is even better. But he’s busy with World History when you risk a peek into the classroom and you can’t justify dragging him out of class for your stupid feelings. You don’t want to interrupt anyone else’s day. This is your problem.

Maybe you should go outside, then. Outside is nice. You can go sit at one of the tables in the sun until the day is over. There’s some homework you could work on, try to take your mind off things. Any passing teachers or school staff are a lot less likely to say something if you’ve got work out. Still pretty weird for a student to be outside in the middle of fourth period, but it’s less weird. 

Another part of you considers, while you’re writing your Humanities essay, that you could go talk to Mr. Candle or something. Even if he’s a spy. After all, he was nice to Oskar when all the other teachers ignore him. You don’t care if that’s part of Moon’s plot to gain your trust or not. Being nice to your boyfriend is...a good first step, you guess. Good as any. With a little amusement, you remember him saying that Mr. Candle put a hundred dollars in his lunch account. He was right. Fate wanted him to have it, and it found a way. So cool. Maybe he’s got a talent for divination. If Janna can do magic, he could too.

If Oskar wasn’t in class like everybody else today (weird but good) you’d go see him. He’s a good listener. Talking over the whole Brittney thing would help. Normally you’d bring it to Marco, but he’s...upset right now, doesn’t want to hear about your problems, doesn’t want to worry about anything but school and karate. 

Maybe it’s better you don’t talk to anybody about it. Just let it go, Star. Who cares? 

You care, but you shouldn’t. She’s just a stupid little kid, you think as you pull out your English reading and your English notebook, fishing in the bottom of your bag for the pen you dropped inside earlier. She’s just a stupid little kid. Forget about it.

 

\----------

 

Be Oskar, just chillin’ after your first full day of school in, uh, you know...some time. It’s been a minute. You haven’t gone to school since you lived with your dad and everything was okay for you. But now your dad is gone, your mom told you she’d call the cops if you very came back to her house, and you’re going to school again while you live in your car and try not to get the police involved at all. Ever. 

Now you’ve got your schedule in your hands, still trying to memorize it. Today was seminar, Physics, a study period, and Health. Tomorrow is Language Arts, Spanish, Pre-Calc, U.S. History. Seminar, Physics, study period, Health. LA, Spanish, Pre-Calc, History. You’ve gotta remember this. And you’ve gotta ask your girlfriend if she has an extra folder. 

Mr. Candle gave you a planner. Part of the deal is you have to write everything down and get it signed by the teacher, then take it to him so he can check it. You can’t skip class unless you’re sick, and if you’re sick then you have to go to the guidance office before class starts and tell him you’re sick so it’s excused. He says he re-opened your online grade account and he’s working with your teachers to get you caught up. You’re supposed to be up to straight D’s or better by the end of the month. 

So there’s like...a bajillion assignments for Health, and they’re all notes or book questions. You just have to turn in notes and you’ll get the minimum passing grade on all the question things. There are two tutoring things you have to go to for Pre-Calc, but the teacher says if you pass the tests she’ll excuse the homework. She’s nice. Spanish is pretty much a joke, you have a bunch of ‘E for Excused’ things in your Language Arts grade and in History, and there’s Physics tutoring on Monday you have to go to until you’re caught up.

It’s a lot, but...you’re back in school. Mr. Candle really did it. He said he could, you thought he was messing with you, and then he came out this morning with a schedule, a notebook, and two pencils.

“Here.” He said, handing you the whole pile. “You’re in Reese’s seminar. Let’s go. You need to meet with all the other teachers.”

Since then your day’s felt a little like you’re a shirt in a really big, too-full dryer. It’s been nonstop, hot, crowded battering, but you’re gonna do this. There’s no other option. If you don’t, Mr. Candle is going to call the kid police and you’ll never see any of your friends or your girlfriend again.

That’s not how he puts it. He says you’ll go to foster care, and they’ll probably let you keep going to Echo Creek High as long as you’re actually going to class. Mr. Candle also says that if you don’t want to live in your car anymore and don’t want to talk to your mom you can get emancipated, whatever that means.

It’s all a lot. All the teachers gave up on you because you’re worthless and dumb. Principal Skeeves actually said that to your face the first week after you transferred to this school. At least he was honest? Or maybe, according to Mr. Candle, he was being an asshole. Mr. Candle doesn’t like Principal Skeeves. Maybe he wasn’t telling the truth, actually, since all the teachers (especially Mrs. Maud, your math teacher) say they’re happy to see you back at class. Mrs. Maud actually hugs you. No one even mentioned your, er, record when you talked to them. Just class stuff. 

All this is so much. If you think about it too long and it feels like you’re astral projecting to the shadow realm from that shitty card show everyone liked in middle school and now collectively pretend they never watched. You just gotta take it slow. Just...go to class, do the work, make music. Do your Health notes. Go find Star and talk to her, because you know she’ll be able to make it make more sense if you just tell her what you’re supposed to do. 

She knows stuff, you know? Like how to go to high school without going to any other school and still get straight A’s, and how to not be scared of adults ruining your life by calling foster care. And Janna can help. She likes you enough to help, probably, since she’s given you a bunch of french fries so she can copy your girlfriend’s notes. This year you actually have friends or, er, people who don’t care if you sit at their table and sometimes eat their food. And a girlfriend.

A girlfriend, and there she is! It’s like thinking about her made her appear or something. You see her sitting at the lunch table with a textbook and a notebook, with her pretty blue hair down and her tail in her lap. She’s so cute. You take a second to be overwhelmed by how cute she is before you remember that Health got out five minutes early and she should still be in...Latin? Is that what she has today? She keeps reminding you, and you keep forgetting.

“Hey!” You yell across the courtyard, grinning when she jumps a little in place. Even through your hair you can see her smile when she sees you. Nice. See? She’s happy to see you, and she can probably help. 

Jogging over to her leaves you a little wheezy. Thank god you don’t have P.E. right now, that’s what. Even if you didn’t smoke (which you, uh, do, whoops) it would kill you. Breathless, you sit down on the mini-bench-chair-thing next to hers with an ‘oof’ while you try to catch your breath. Star laughs.

“Hey yourself.” She says, still smiling. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were in class today.”

“We got out a little early ‘cause everyone finished early. Coach is pretty cool. What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, uh…” Her bright, shiny smile slips a little. “...Uh, I finished my work, so the sub--no, okay, not true. I left class and I’m not supposed to be here. But, um, don’t worry about it. How did class go?! I couldn’t find you during lunch, I was worried.”

“I ate in Mr. Candle’s office. He made me take some kind of personality test-thing. Sorry I didn’t text, my phone is--”

“Broken, right. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She closes her textbook and starts backing it back up in her backpack. “Seriously, how did it go? What’s your schedule? Do you need a backpack for your books and stuff?”

Oh right, that’s a thing. That’s probably why running sucked more than usual. You’ve got all these big books. 

“Yeah, probably. It went...okay, I guess. It was a lot.”

“School here is pretty overwhelming. We probably don’t have any classes together, but what’s your schedule?” 

“I’ve got seminar, Physics, Health, Language Arts--uh, here.” You hand her the folded-up schedule in your fist while your cheeks go red. “It’ll be easier to read.”

“They put you in Pre-Calculus! That’s great! And Physics, and Spanish! Do you speak Spanish?”

“Nope. I took it last year though, so I can like...get caught up, and stuff. Senor put a bunch of ‘excused’ stuff in, whatever that means, and he says I passed the quiz today…”

“That’s great, babe!” Damn, she looks excited even before she kisses you quick on the cheek and starts looking through your textbooks. It’s just two today (Physics and Health) and you’ll get the rest tomorrow. There’s also a bunch of papers from class, and Mr. Candle, and your planner...plus the notebook. You already lost a pencil though. 

“It’s, uh, it’s a start, I guess.”

“Are you excited?”

“I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“It’s a lot.” She agrees, looking over one of the papers from Mr. Candle. “Hey, you have ADD?”

“I do?”

“Yeah silly, that’s what this paper says. Oh, wait--you might have ADD. It’s just a print-out of stuff to look for. I guess that’s what the test he gave you during lunch was for.”

“Oh.” You weren’t really paying attention when he explained it, and you don’t know what ADD is, so she already knows more about this than you.

See? Star knows stuff, she can help.

“Do you wanna go buy a backpack now? We’ve got three hours before Skate Night starts.” She’s already stacking your stuff into a neater, easier-to-carry pile. “And a pencil case, more pencils, maybe a binder…”

“Whoa, whoa, I got like $5. I can’t just--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“But--”

“Babe I get a whole year of money every month. Don’t even worry about it.” She fluffs your hair a little before she kisses your cheek. Now you’re blushing again. “It’s nothing.”

“...I think I have a backpack in my car.”

“We could find that, if you don’t want a new one. 

“Yeah, I’d like--hey, hold on.” You almost forgot. Star’s great at changing the subject. “Why did you leave class again?”

“I...don’t worry about it, okay? It was nothing. Let’s go find you a backpack.”

It’s not nothing, you’re pretty sure. But Star’s already scooting out of her mini-bench and skipping off towards your car. You can’t do much but grab your stuff and follow, starting to be a little worried. Maybe Star can help, but you were too worried about your stuff today to think about how she’s...she’s still kind of messed up, which she should be (you think) and probably will be for a while. She’s got a lot of stuff to deal with and she still wants to help you, but you don’t want to give her more stuff to be stressed about. That wouldn’t be cool.

“Uh, Star, maybe you shouldn’t--”

“I should definitely help you.” She guesses what you’re thinking about before you’re sure it’s what you’re thinking about. “Trust me, I want to be distracted. We could, you know, clean up a little while we’re looking for the bag.”

“Yeah, okay. And you could...tell me about class?”

“...Okay. Yeah.” She falls in step with you. “If you want.”

“I want.”

Star giggles. “Okay. It’s pretty dumb though.”

After she tells you about what happened (including Janna’s wicked spell-thing and not including exactly what Brittney said), she makes you move the car closer to the dumpster so you don’t have to carry all these pizza boxes across the parking lot. Good call. The whole ‘cleaning’ thing is stressing you out, but she’s probably right that cleaning up a little will make you feel better. Just like she’s right about moving the car. Star’s good at being right. As the trash moves from your back seat to the garbage you’re already starting to feel better. Gene climbs up on your shoulder to watch what you’re doing with style. 

“Hey little guy.” You kiss the fluffy, fluffy top of his little head. “Careful.”

He makes a little chirp-y sound and scrabbles off your shoulder to sleep in your jacket hood, warm against your neck and slightly ticklish when he falls asleep up there. It’s probably good to throw stuff away. He’ll be able to get to his box way easier this way. And you found the backpack! It’s a little stained (red, so probably soda or something) but there’s still no holes in it. It’s also got a pencil case, and folders you had from your last school.

“Nice!” Star leans on your shoulder to look into the bag with you, talking for the first time in probably...twenty minutes? In a while. “That’s great, and this is a pretty big bag.”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re not thinking about the bag, or school supplies. As she talks about making a list of stuff you still need, you’re thinking about Brittney being mean to her. It doesn’t make very much sense to you. Anybody being mean to Star doesn’t make sense to you. She’s so...not mean. Somebody said something about getting in a fight with that Alf-something kid, but you can’t picture it. Maybe he was being mean to her too. 

“...Hey, Starburst?”

“Huh?” She looks up from the list she’s making in her little pocket-notebook.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am.”

“Really, really okay?”

“I’ve never been okay in my life, but this doesn’t matter.”

“...It’s making you sad, though.”

“I’m always sad. It’s not dangerous to me or my friends, so I can ignore it and deal with other stuff that’s actually dangerous. Stupid Brittany and her stupid face and stupid bullying--well.” She takes a deep breath, trying to be a little more calm, but something tells you she’s a few seconds away from tears. “She can’t talk shit about my dad and scare me away from school. School is too important to let it get to me.”

“Let’s take a break.” You climb over the console to sit in the driver’s seat, your favorite spot in the whole car, and Star grabs your shoulder to steady herself when she slips into the passenger seat. “Where’s your dad, by the way? I haven’t seen in him forever.”

“I don’t know.” She snaps. You flinch. “Where’s your dad, Oskar?”

To surprised to do anything else, you tell her the truth. “...He’s dead.”

“Oh.” Her breath catches a little. “Mine too.”

Embarrassed, she sinks down into the cracked leather seat. Man, you should get seat covers or something. At least for the passenger side. You know Star thinks you should clean up your car. Now probably isn’t the time to think about it though, huh. 

Most people would be mad at her right now, but you’re not most people. You know what it’s like to live with somebody for years and then lose them. Mr. Toffee’s dead? He’s supposed to be invincible. Guess he wasn’t as invincible as everybody thought. You’re curious, but your girlfriend is curled up like she wants to disappear and now isn’t a good time to ask questions about what happened or why. That was such a dumb thing to say, Oskar. Why is everything you say so dumb?

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. “That was an awful thing to say.” 

"Hold on."

You climb out of the car, shut the door, walk around to the passenger side and climb into her seat with her. Under her is a better way to put it, since she’s squished up half in your lap. You don't close the door, there's not enough room for that, but you do hug her really tight.

"I'm sorry about your dad.” You say, very quietly. Her breath is surprisingly hot against your neck, catching a little in her throat as she tries not to burst into tears. “It really sucks. You were really close."

"Y-Yeah."

"I lost my dad too. He was my best friend. Nobody hugged me, though, so I'm gonna hug you." You squeeze her a little for emphasis. "Until you feel better. Brittany's stupid. Don't even worry about her. She doesn't know shit. Last year she tried to buy drugs from me and I sold her a sandwich bag of oregano for fifty bucks."

“...I guess that’s not drugs?”

“Nah, babe, it’s like...a spice they put in pizza or something. No high from smoking that. She probably did the whole thing with her dumb friends. Would have hurt, too. Rich people are so dumb. Brittney’s dumb. She doesn’t know what it’s like to lose someone.”

“Or maybe she does. That would be worse.” Star sniffles, scrubbing at her tears with one hand. “Maybe she does know, and she just doesn’t care.”

“Who knows. Her mom and dad aren’t even divorced or anything. She’s just a dumb kid with too much money.”

“I have too much money.”

“You’re not a dumb kid.”

She’s not a dumb kid at all. Compared to everybody (and you) she’s barely even a kid at all. You ask her stuff you should ask adults and she always knows the answer. No one ever told you what her life was like before. You asked her about it and she just said she was homeschooled. Maybe that’s why she’s smart.

"What happened to your dad?" She asks, after a few minutes of quiet.

"He, uh, stroked out last year.” A whole year ago, almost. You can hardly believe it. Sometimes you think you’ll wake up and he’ll be there, because all this crap that’s happened to you since is just a bad dream. Most of it. “I had to go live with my mom."

"Oh."

"She doesn't like me very much. I don’t think she ever wanted kids, she never talked to me before. But the Diaz's are cool, right? They’re nice to you. That's good. You’re with nice people."

"I'm sorry." She settles her cheek against your chest. When was the last time you washed this shirt? Ugh, it’s been a while. That’s kind of embarrassing, but Star doesn’t seem to mind. "I didn't know..."

"'S okay, Starburst. It was forever ago. I don't talk about it, and I should probably be over it already, y'know? What happened to your dad?"

“A magical accident.” Her clawed hand makes a fist full of your gross, dirty shirt, like she’s trying to make sure you don’t go anywhere. No worries, babe. You’re not going anywhere. “...I don't think I'll be over it in a year."

"That's okay."

Star can't get her arms around you from this angle, so she settles for hugging one of your arms really tight. "It's okay for you too. We're kinda messed up, huh."

"Yeah. It happens."

'It happens.' That sounds so casual, but it’s just about right. It happens. Lots of things happen. This is just one of those things. Life’s just a bunch of things that keep happening, even when you wish it would stop, and there’s nothing you can do but your best. At least, that’s how it is for you. Sometimes you feel like you’ve never stood on solid ground in your entire life. There’s always something, something trying to knock you over and kick you in the ribs.

"Hey, listen.” You lean down in the seat a little, scoot her up until you can see her face. “You're gonna be okay. You're smart, and you have some family that likes you, right? You're gonna be okay."

"I have you, too."

You kiss her cheek. "Yeah. I'm here, Starburst. Now...let’s go somewhere. You wanna go to the McGasstation? We can like, do homework and stuff, before Skate Night”

“Hell yeah.” She grins. “I almost forgot. Hey, Oskar?”

“Yeah babe?”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. You mean a lot to me. I hope you know that.”

It’s hard for you to believe, but she would never lie to you. You trust her.

“Yeah.” You kiss her forehead. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I've got a lot to do, we're switching to one update per week. I would rather put up something good than something cobbled together, and I'm hoping this change will mean longer and higher quality chapters for you guys. Thank you for your patience and support so far! I'm looking forward to the next chapter. Let's see if I can keep it under wraps ;) it's gonna be fun.


	6. Ysa Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll delete this when the next chapter comes out. Sorry guys.

Hey guys! It's me, your friendly neighborhood jellyfish. 

This chapter is just an author's note, because I wanted you guys to know I couldn't get a chapter out this week. Between a new job and my severely declining mental health I'm going to pause on this for a week or two. Next week I'll be able to take my meds again (long story) and should be able to post again. Right now it's just...impossible for me to write. Believe me, I've tried. And tried. And tried. It's like banging my head against a glass wall with the end of this chapter on the other side. One day I'll be in good enough shape to climb that sucker and get where we're going. Unfortunately, it's going to take a little time for me to get there.

This isn't the end of the story! I can't stress that enough. As I said, I have a lot of plans that I'm excited to get in motion as soon as my health improves. Thank you to everyone who's been so kind and enjoyed this work of mine! I'll answer comments as soon as I work up the spoons for it, and don't forget that you're all amazing. I'll talk to you soon!

Ysa

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go!! Thank you as always for comments/kudos. You're all princesses who wear the bones of their enemies <3
> 
> Looking for more SVTFOE content? Some extra context and maybe even foreshadowing for the future (and past) of this storyline? Check out my 8-tracks account [here](https://8tracks.com/pointlessprincess) where I've got two Half-Breed playlists and more on the way. Also, a handful of Dragon Age playlists if you're into that nerd shit :3


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